


A Little Fall Of Rain

by mysteriousdreaming



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sad Ending, Slow Burn, Terminal Illnesses, get ready for some sad times, ok maybe medium burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousdreaming/pseuds/mysteriousdreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamison is dying. Years of living in a radiation twisted hellscape have finally taken their toll, just as things where starting to get better. But among all the chaos that comes with secretly dying while trying to help save the world, he wasn't supposed to fall in love with the order loving Vishkar agent. He wasn't supposed to find a reason to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cancer. In the top of his right lung. Angel wings’ words made the junkers ears ring in the same way as one of his bombs would. Loud and piercing. Blocking out any other sound and thought.

He’d felt like shite for weeks, years in fact, living in the twisted, junk ridden, irradiated outback would do that to you, but the last few weeks had been pure torture. Constant coughing and what felt like and thousand knives in his chest whenever he laughed had changed from a small spark of annoyance he’d grown used, to into a roaring blaze so fierce and painful that Roadhog had dragged the lanky arsonist to the clinic himself. Not without protest. This lead to shouting and yelling, Mercy relentlessly poking and prodding him with needles and looking at him with odd machines that whirred and banged and made his head hurt more than any explosions. All this wasted time that could have been used for tinkering and crafting all because of Hogs paranoia. Even if it turned out the pig wasn't paranoid at all. After every test the medics expression became more grim, and any jokes he tried to make to lighten the mood earned him a look that may be given to a poor defenseless puppy from Mercy and a warning grunt from Roadhog. He felt like a child and god did he hate it.

Junkrat’s thoughts were brought back to the present by the feeling of a over sized hand shaking him firmly. Angel Wings had started on a speech about ‘treatment’ and ‘the wonders of modern medicine’ and ‘Doing everything we can’ that had made the junker almost fall asleep, out of boredom and a hope to escape.

“Jamison, please listen, this is important.” Mercy voice was soft and comforting, filled with worry just like a mother, making him feel guilty for daydreaming. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on you until we know how bad this is.”

“You don’t say?” he snapped agitated. The tone of his voice a little sharper than he’d intended, earning a harsh shove from his body guard. “Because i thought you were going to give me a lollipop 'n' let me go home.” Another shove and a warning grunt made him shrug the supportive hand off his shoulder and shift as far away from the large mercenary as his chair would allow.

The doctor noticed the gesture and sighed, pushing a strand of blond hair behind her ear and taking a deep breath “I know this is a lot to take in Jamison but please try to understand, or i can't help you.”

“I know, I know.” The junker folded his arms tightly over his chest like a protective barrier. Since him and Roadhog had been hired by Winson to help Overwatch’s cause a few months ago, for the first time in the young Australian's life things had been getting better. No more sleepless nights spent keeping watch for people who would kill him just for the scrap on his arm never mind the treasure he was being hunted for. No more hours spent looking for just enough food to live another day. No more worrying that in the wrong circumstances a shallow cut could be a death sentence. Over the last few months the clean building with hot running water, soft beds and enough food to feed an army had become to feel like home.

Even if some of them where goodie two shoes the other members of the team he had found himself in weren't that bad either. In the heat of a battle they had his back and he had theirs, even the omnic monk and his cyborg student. Even back at the base, despite spending most of his time alone with his large body guard, he got friendly waves from Mercy and Winston, made Tracer laugh and Mei cringe with his cheesy jokes and puns, and had long late night silences with Symmetra in the workshop that seemed to hold more value to him than any spoken words. For the first time in his life people cared about him.

“How bad is it.” He mumbled looking down at his outstretched leg and pegged prosthetic. He’d always thought that blowing himself up would be the worst medical disaster in his life, but it seemed once again life loved to prove him wrong.

“It’s quite advanced, aggressive too, but that doesn't mean we can't control it with the right treatment. As I was saying before modern medicine and technology can work wonders Jamison”

“And if you can't?” Junkrat bit his lip and started picking at the flaking paint of his metal arm

“Then you have about a year.”

 

* * *

 

It was almost midnight when Symmetra found Junkrat. She hadn't seen the junker in days. Usually she would see his lanky frame slinking down the corridors of the vast facility with his bodyguard not far behind him like a great looming shadow, or awkwardly bent over strange smelling powders and schematics for his latest bomb, mine or whatever mad explosion he was working on. Since the two Australians had joined Overwatch only a few months ago they had brought with them a whirlwind of destruction that went against Symmeta’s very core. Junkrat with his loud explosions, messy work space that bled into hers and apparent disliking of self hygiene went against everything she knew, everything that Vishkar had taught her about order and the way things should be. She hated everything about him. The way she would smell the soot and smoke clinging to him when they were stuck next to each other in drop ship, the way his ridiculous height made it feel as though he was looking down on her, his manic laughing on the battlefield. He was a constant reminder of everything wrong with the world and why the world needed Vishkar’s help and guidance.

Despite all this, not seeing a team member in so long unnerved her. One loose thread the whole team could come undone. She wasn't worried about him, of course not, she was worried for the workings of the team.

She’d spent the last few hours tossing and tuning in her bed trying to to sleep. Despite her best efforts she just couldn't drop off, there were too many sounds for her brain to relax. Lena’s soft snoring, the clanking and rumbling of the buildings water pipes and the distant popping and fizzing of explosions. With a sigh Symmetra pulled herself up, placing her feet carefully on the cold wood floor of the barracks, and after grabbing a coat she headed outside, hoping some fresh air would settle her mind and finally allow her to rest.

She’d walked about halfway around the building when she saw him, propped in a crumpled heap against one of the walls of the facility, peg leg stretched out in front of him and and his weight leaning on his mechanical prosthetic arm. It was a rough design, made of scrap and junk, nothing compared to the sleek and smooth white of her own arm. However despite the imperfect design she had to give him some credit, the thing worked, and very well too. She looked around, there was no sign of the large, looming shadow of a bodyguard today and Symmetra couldn't help but be relieved. By the looks of it the lanky arsonist was all alone. He was throwing cherry bombs at the wall opposite, the little explosive bounced back at him, popping and fizzing as they when off, sometimes one would explode more violently than the last, other times the small bombs would just fizzle out disappointingly. Symmetra wasn’t surprised, of course Junkrat would be the person blowing things up in the dead of night. At least they were only small explosions, not the rumbling, earsplitting bangs of mines or grenades. However as she got closer she noticed something that surprised her, usually when the junker was blowing things up there was an unmistakable glint of passion and excitement burning in his fire like eyes and in the way he carelessly threw the dangerous equipment around. Genuine love and enthusiasm for what he was doing. But the less distance there was between them the more Symmetra could see that none of this was present. No passion, love, enthusiasm or excitement. Just explosions. Flat, emotionless explosions.

“What are you doing?” She called over to him sternly. “It’s past midnight, you should be sleeping.”

“I’m making pancakes. Learning french. Riding a unicycle” his tone was sarcastic and clipped “What does it look like I’m doing.” Junkrat mumbled, chucking another small explosive that bounced back at him and let of a small bang that made Symmetra cover her ears.”’n’ you’re out here too. So why aren’t you sleeping.” He looked up, almost glaring at her. She could see small dirt less trails on his cheeks, almost as if the junker had been crying.

“I couldn't, there was too much noise. I thought a walk might help.“ She looked at him carefully, his usually bright amber eyes a dull orange. He was acting so strange, unnervingly so. She hated things being unpredictable, and the lanky Australian was being worse than normal.

He, pushed himself back up the wall and to his feet before running his good hand through his charcoal stained hair. “Sorry. Maybe you should wear earmuffs if it bothers you so much.” the tone of his voice was cold, icy and disinterested. It irritated Symmetra immensely, far more that it should have. He was as insufferable and self centered as always, and to think for a second she was almost concerned about him.

“If you weren't blowing things up at midnight i wouldn't have to!” she snapped back, her hand forming tight fists at her sides. despite trying to keep her tone calm, the way she was taught to, she couldn't help it. He was trying to wind her up, and she was giving him what he wanted. “This late at night is not the time for your childish explosions. You're not in the outback anymore. Civil people live here Junkrat, you can’t just blow things up any time of the day you please.”

Another bomb, this one fizzed away in a disappointed nothingness. She’d definitely struck a nerve. “It’s not childish.” he protested, pulling himself up to his full height and walking over to her, towing over her small frame intimidatingly. “If anyone is being childish it’s you, little miss law and order.” She wanted to take a step back, out of the way of the explosive obsessed mad man. Out of his shadow and blank glare, but she couldn't. Her feet felt glued to the ground and her legs felt like they were made of stone. Why hadn't she just stayed inside? She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself, smoothing down her jacket. There was nothing he could do to her here, not without Winston or Lena finding out.

“How am I the childish one here? I’m not sulking up a corner and throwing explosives around when people are trying to sleep.”

Junkrat paused, trying to think of an answer and failing, much to his annoyance. Symmetra looked up at him again, getting a closer look at the trails down his face that were free of dirt and grim and hinted at freckles somewhere underneath the second skin of soot. If he could just be bothered to take a bath he could be presentable, attractive even. She shook her head, glaring back at him once again. After a few more moments of tense silence he let out a huff folding his arms “I don't know, you just are ok?” the junker stepped back, picking at flaking paint on his arm again and biting his lip. He hesitated a second before turning around and walking away. “Sweet dreams Satya.”

Symmetra didn't reply and just glared at the junker as he walked away, seething at the use of her real name.He was such a child. A child who just had to have the last word. Gods did she hate him.

If only he’d just disappear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt I'll ever update this soon again, but the chapter was done and i didn't see the point in not posting it! Hope you enjoy it!

It was about two days later when Symmetra next saw the lanky junker, who despite still seeming a little off was pretty much back to his old self. His destructive, explosive, chaos causing self. She was sitting in the mess hall, working her way though what Lena had lovingly called a ‘full English breakfast’. When she had asked whether the dish was seen as a delicacy back at home, her friend laughed lightheartedly.

“I guess ya could call it that love, but one things for sure, there aint a better way to start your day!” She giggled stuffing a piece of bacon into her mouth with a grin.

She had to agree, although greasy and filling the breakfast was surely delicious. It was nice to have a colleague she could also call a friend. The Vishkar Corporation had never really provided that. All relationships were to be kept professional, there was no time for friendships or any other type of emotional connection, so to have someone she could relax around and talk to was definitely a pleasant new experience. Especially with someone as honorable and admirable as Lena. She was just finishing off her last bites of the tasty meal, and getting ready to head back to her barrack and rejoin her friend when she heard a crash and a sudden commotion in the kitchen.

“Jamison,” Zenyatta’s calm and tranquil voice rang out softly, catching her attention at the mention of the Australians name “I’m very sorry. Please let me help you.”

“O i’ll make ya sorry you useless bucket of bolts” it didn’t take long for the junkers seething reply to reach Symmetra. It made her feel uneasy, scared even. The words were sharp and dark, but beyond the anger she could tell that he was genuinely upset. “Don’t come anywhere near me, and don’t call me Jamison. It’s Junkrat. At least get that right you pathetic machine”

“Don't talk to my master like that you criminal.”

She winced at the voice of the monk’s student, bracing herself for the crashes and shuffles of a fight. Genji was fiercely protective of his mentor and master, and Junkrat sounded like he was on the verge of throttling the floating omnic. Not that strangling the robot would have any effect, but a threat was still a threat and a brawl was almost inevitable. At close range, in a confined space where his bombs couldn't help him, the junker was at a large disadvantage when put against an actual cyborg ninja with a very big sword. She didn't like Junkrat, not at all, but she didn't want him murdered over his own stupid words.

Lucky, just like the angel she was, Doctor Ziegler had stepped in before the two boys could get at each others necks. Gently she pulled the lanky arsonist away from the student and master duo, and right into Symmetra’s view. The junker was a mess, and that was saying something considering he usually looked like a chimney sweep who had fallen in a coal mine. His neck, chest and shorts were covered in a thick, orange colored tomato sauce. The odd baked bean clinged to him and and the various attachments sticking off his harness in an almost comical fashion. She would have burst out laughing at the sight if it wasn't for the pure rage on his face as well as pity for Mercy and her attempts to comfort him. Instead she just turned back to her meal, rolling her eyes. If he got this worked up over just some spilt beans, then he was more of a child than she thought. Even so, something didn't seem right. Even Junkrat, with his disgusting anti-omnic views, and toddler like attitude didn't seem the type to make this much of a fuss over something so minor. Still, she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, picking up her plate and cutlery as the junker sulked out of the mess hall, a trail of sauce behind him. The less she tried to understand what went on in the arsonists mind the better. Maybe then she could go back to Vishkar when this was all over with her sanity still intact.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat shivered, goosebumps littering his arms as icy water cascaded over his head and down his back as he sat on the cold tiled floor, washing a gentle stream of orange down the shower drain. He hadn't bothered to wait for the water to warm up, he just wanted to get the thick mess off his body as soon as he could. With a shaky hand he rubbed shampoo into his hair, getting the soap as lathered as he could with only one working ligament, and started washing away the soot that tipped the blond mess and the random patches of tomato sauce that had somehow also got into his hair. The foul smelling juice had covered every exposed inch of his skin, which considering his disliking of shirts and long trousers, was the majority of his body.

The floating, peace preaching, bucket of bolts hadn’t been looking where he been going and had backed right into the junkers lanky frame, knocking him off his prosthetic leg and covering him from head to toe in his own breakfast. Dam Omnic. To think people said he was the one that brought destruction wherever he went.

He despised the robots, whether they were calm monks or violent criminals, they were all the same to him. Wastes of perfectly good metal and wiring. Omnics had taken his parents home and land away from them, thanks to stupid post crisis ‘peace agreements’, and not long after that they had taken their lives too. It was because of Omnics that as a 7 year old orphan he had lost his leg when he stepped on an old mine, he’d stood their for hours under the blistering sun, his body burnt to a crisp, until a group of passing adults had told him to take his foot off the ticking device of doom and run. He then lost his arm too at 18, when one of his own grenades went off far close to where he was standing. It was Omics fault he was being hunted for his treasure, a treasure he never would have found if the fusion core hadn't blown up. It was Omnics fault he was now dying.

Yet he was the bigot, the ‘robo racist’. He was treated like his hate of the bots was pulled out of nothingness. An excuse just to be a jerk. So what if parts of the world had now forgiven the machines for their crimes? So what if some people now lived in peace and harmony with them. That didn't mean he had to join in with their little kumbaya. They hadn't see the things he had. The kind of horrors that never leave you, no matter how many years pass and how hard you close your eyes. The corpses of children rotting in the heat of the outback, being picked apart by birds and other animals. Not knowing whether their visible ribs were due to decomposition or if they died that way. Wasted away by the radiation of the exploded omnium's fusion core.Those were the images that kept him up at night. That was what the lumps of metal had done, yet it was him who was the bad guy for hating them, not the murderous heaps of scrap.

Hastily, Junkrat put his hand against the shower wall as he tried to calm himself and gain back control over his breathing, as salty tears escaped against his will and mixed with the now lukewarm water. Since when had he become such a cry baby? He’d cried as soon as he was alone after Mercy had told him he was dying, and would have cried longer if Symmetra hadn't found him. He’d cried again the day before when Roady had grunted at him a little louder and harder than usual. That had shocked the old mercenary, who didn't know what to do with the blubbering junker other than put an apologetic hand on his shoulder.

Back in the twisted Australian wasteland he never cried, not even when he felt the flesh and bone of his lower arm being torn away from his body in a flash of agonizing pain. So being reduced to tears now, over something as ridiculous as being covered in his own food made him feel idiotic.

After a few more minutes scrubbing away the mix of ash and tomato sauce that clung to him like glue, he reattached his prosthetics and wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out of the shower. After drying of the rest of his body and getting changed into his still damp, but now clean, shorts he looked in the mirror. Despite being the neatest and cleanest he’d been in years, he still looked a mess. His amber eyes were red and puffy, making it extremely obvious to anyone who saw him that he’d been crying. A light dusting of freckles, usually covered with black powder, littered the bridge of his nose and under his eyes and his damp hair was fluffed out like a baby bird. He looked like a pathetic child, not a wasteland hardened junker. With a sigh he ran his hands over his face and through his hair, the cool metal of the prosthetic contrasting with warm damp flesh of his good arm. It was only ten in the morning and his day had already gone to shite. After a few more seconds of pondering what to do next, he decided to head to the workshop. In between Angel Wing’s tests and bouts of restless sleep he spent far less time than he would have liked drawing schematics and making new explosives. Besides, perhaps some tinkering would lift his spirits.

At this point, he’d take anything.

* * *

 

Symmetra didn't know how long she'd been sitting in the workshop, carefully bent over a drawing for a new teleporter design, when Junkrat walked in. the unmistakable clinking of his metal peg leg alerting her to his presence before he had even entered the room. After the morning's drama she hadn't expected to see him again, at least for the rest of the day. She braced herself for the smoky smell that usually followed him around, but was shocked when it wasn't there. Ignoring the anomaly, she called out to him politely with a sigh “Good afternoon Junkrat”.

No response. He just ignored her. Annoyed, she tried again with the same results, before going back to her work with a huff. If he wanted to be rude, so be it, but couldn't he just try to make an effort to be professional? It would take no effort for him to answer, even with a grunt, and the fact he didn't even bother to do that infuriated her. After pushing the irritation aside and minutes of more graceful and precise work, careful pencil lines adoring the page she was working on, Symmetra began to rock her chair back and forth. Biting on a carefully painted teal nail, she was trying to wrack her brain for more ways to make the sleek mechanism even more efficient. She wanted it to be perfect and working at its full potential. With every idle movement she made, the old chair let out a small, rhythmic squeak of protest. To her, the repetitive sound was calming.

“Can ya stop that? I can't concentrate.” The junker spoke up suddenly, catching her attention. His voice was rough and raw, as if someone had rubbed his throat with sandpaper. A stark contrast to what it was like earlier that morning when he was yelling at Zenyatta. “I have work ah need to finish, but i can’t do that with ya chair making that noise constantly.” She looked over at the junker and saw he was looking back at her with a half annoyed, half pleading look in his eyes. That wasn't the only thing she noticed. She barely recognized the tall man sitting to the side of her. He was clean, spotless even.

The thick layer of back power that usually covered his back, neck and face was gone, showing off the freckled and spotted skin beneath. Small moles were arranged randomly over his shoulder blades and his blond hair was free of soot pushed back out of his face. She felt her eyes wander over the tense muscles of his neck and down his arms. As skinny and lanky as he was, the junker was pretty well built. It wasn't too surprising, she thought, considering that when on a mission he would have a bulky tire bomb attached to his back for hours at a time, and the weight of countless explosives draped over his broad shoulders. The more she looked at the now clean Junkrat, the more she felt the tips of her ears redden, remembering her own words from a few days before. As much as she hated to admit it the bomb obsessed madman, after a thorough shower, was almost attractive. Almost. Her eyes finally went back to his. They still seemed blank, just like when she had last looked at them this carefully. Almost as if they were missing something. Although she couldn't even begin to think what.

“Sorry.”Her voice was sharp, mimicking his from the previous night.“Maybe you should wear earmuffs if it bothers you so much.” It may have been unprofessional, but gods it felt good to use the mad jesters own words against him. Even if some of the enjoyment disappeared when the lanky arsonist broke eye contact, almost looking regretful.

“Look I’m sorry about the other day Metra.” He sighed, rolling a pencil between his fingers before tapping it on the desk in front of him. “I know how much order and stuff means to ya, and i guess ah wasn't being a good team member with the way i spoke to you.” The junker sighed, mumbling into his metal hand “I’d just had a rough day ya know?” The last part was uncharacteristically soft, so quiet she only just caught it.

She was about to snap at him over the nickname but paused.Wait. he was seriously apologizing? In the past whenever he'd wound her up and she let him know about it, he would just tease her more. Sometimes he would even sarcastically apologize and tell her to lighten up, among other more vulgar expressions of the same meaning. This time was different. He seemed genuinely sorry.

“Its fine Jamison,” She saw him visibly wince at the use of his name but continued “but you need to learn how to be part of a team. Everyone had bad days, you can't just take it out on other people.”

He huffed, smirking slightly. “Sure. Just wait, I’ll be the be the best team player you’ve seen.”

“Well you don't have much time to get there.” The next mission could be any day now, and currently any battle situation where Junkrat was by her side made her feel uneasy. The explosive obsessive threw grenades and mines around like they were harmless toys and Symmetra reckoned it was only a matter of time before he blew up himself, or another member of Overwatch. The team had to work like a finely woven tapestry, not a stitch out of place, and at the moment the junker was inches away from making the whole piece unravel.

She looked back over to where he was. He seemed to have gone back to his work, sketching wildly with his good hand, occasionally stopping to scribble down some notes in his terrible handwriting. He was probably working some new explosions that would make her ears ring and the ground rumble. There was something about the junker trying to help bring order with something so destructive that felt so wrong to her. Order and chaos, they just didn't mix. The order and guidance of people like Vishkar was there to stop the chaos brought by people such as Junkrat and his bodyguard. They were opposite forces that didn't work together.

Symmetra sighed, rubbing her temple with the fingers of her smooth white prosthetic as she neatened some of the wonkier lines she had drawn. Even so, if the team was going to work perfectly and efficiently, she had to learn to work with the junker. That didn't mean she had to like him.

After all, how hard could it be?


	3. Chapter 3

Briefing was uneventful, and played out the way it always did with Winston showing them plans, attack points and hot spots on various large interactive screens. As usual Symmetra had sat next to Lena, and the other older members of Overwatch, on one side of the room. Zenyatta and his student had sat the other side of her a few chairs away, and the two junkers stood against the back wall of the meeting room, distancing themselves from the rest of the team. “So much for being a team player.” she thought, slightly annoyed. The mission itself was simple, the kind they had done a thousand times before. Tomorrow, all they had to do was help drive back Talon mercs that were harassing some locals in the Mexican city of Dorado. She glanced over at the two Australians at the other side of the room, It was hard to tell if Roadhog was paying attention due to the large, intimidating mask covering his face, but Junkrat was obviously bored. Once again he was picking at his prosthetic arm and looking anywhere but at Winston. Despite having only showered the day before, there were already telltale traces of ash in his hair and on his hands. Only the gods knew how he had got that dirty in only a few hours.

With a sigh, her attention turned back to Winston, who was now talking to Doctor Ziegler and Torbjörn about the best place to set up a temporary defense. Why had he even hired the two junkers in the first place? She was on ‘loan’ from Vishkar for her talent and expertise in hard light technology, but them? They were practically criminals hired straight off the street, and there was something about working with people that broke the law that rubbed her up the wrong way. The two should be in jail not Overwatch.

When the briefing was over, and Symmetra was getting ready to leave, she noticed the doctor approaching Junkrat out of the corner of her eye. After a short conversation, and much protest from the arsonist, he followed the medic out of the room, his menacing shadow not far behind. What the hell would she need the two junkers help for? She shook the question from her mind, it was none of her business. Besides she had more important things to get one with that had nothing to do the the explosive maniac, it was about time she scrubbed him out of her thoughts. If she spent the day working and testing the new teleporter it could be ready for use on the battlefield tomorrow. She smiled, the new device would be perfect, and so much better than its inferior predecessor. Tomorrow's mission would directly help people. She really was making the world a better place.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat looked at Mercy with a bewildered expression. The medic had dragged him down to her clinic to talk about treatment, and so far he was less than impressed “Hold on, you’re gonna try and kill off this crap by POISONING me?” He slumped down even further in his seat than he was already sitting, confused “You sure that’ll work? Cause it sounds like a load of bloody bullshit to me.”

“It does work Jamison,” Mercy sighed, smoothing down the skirt she was wearing. “Although i don't know how effective it will be with something as aggressive and advanced your case, or whether it will have any effect at all. Unless we try it we don’t know.”

He nodded. Since Roadhog had dragged him to the doctor only a few days before, he had tried every possible way he could think of to avoid Mercy, from going on long walks to hiding in the workshop, and apart from when he nearly got his ass kicked by a glowing green ninja he’d been doing quite well. Until today that is. As soon as the briefing, the one time he couldn't avoid her, was over he could have sworn the medic had flown over to him before he could even blink, never mind think about leaving. She requested, well, politely ordered, that he followed her to the clinic. On the way down Roadhog had jokingly grunted that no one could run from Mercy forever. Turned out the old pig was right. Again.

As far as he could tell, Roady was the only one who had noticed that the usually hyperactive junker was acting off, and he was relived. The last thing he wanted was other people sticking their big nose into his business. He didn’t want fake sympathy or even worse, people saying he was a burden on the team. He’d get treated by good ol’ angel wings, go back to blowing things up, and none of the other Overwatch members would ever even find out,they would just stay blissfully oblivious. At least that was the plan.

He glanced back at Mercy, sheepishly realizing he hadn't replied to her yet. “So this poison, what does it actually do?” The junker rubbed his neck with his metal hand, trying to sound uninterested. Honestly he loved science and chemicals. The fact that one chemical could be deadly under one set of circumstances, but harmless under another fascinated him. When he was 8 he had found a battered and slightly crisped, but still readable, chemistry textbook at an abandoned school. It was basic year 5 stuff, but he was hooked. Even after learning more things from older junkers and higher level stolen books, he still kept the old burnt textbook even when he had left the outback. The old thing held a lot of sentiment, not that he would admit it. However, the more time he spent around the doctor, with her complicated medical terms, the more of an idiot he felt. He didn’t know shit about MRI’s and Radiotherapy or what the drugs with long complicated names were made of. Not that he could really help it. Back at home there was no time for real professionals, if you got hurt, you just had to find the closest guy with a cleanish knife and cross your fingers.

She smiled a little, not fooled.“Hopefully, if it works, the chemotherapy will slow or maybe even stop the growth of the cancer cells.” The doctor checked to see if he was still paying attention, “However, it can also affect healthy cells, meaning there are side effects.”

“Like what?”

“Nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite and fatigue to name a few, you’ll get sick easier too, as your body will have less white blood cells. Your immune system will be a lot weaker.” The medics smile faltered, turning sad, “But if the treatment works, it’ll be worth it Jamison. I promise.”

The junker huffed like a small child. “That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one getting tortured.” His words nearly earnt him a harsh shove from Roadhog, but Mercy stopped the large mercenary with a sharp glare before he could touch the lanky arsonist.”Look ill take ya stupid treatment ok? Just tell me when we start.” He looked down at the floor. He didn’t want treatment. Treatment meant there really was something wrong. It made all this bullshit seem even more real.

“Thank you.” The medic looked relieved “As soon as possible would be best. I think we should start tomorrow.”

That made Junkrat sit up and uncross his arms. “Wait. Tomorrow? I can’t do tomorrow, we have a mission remember?” He protested looking right at Mercy for the first time since they had entered the clinic. “Look if there's a mission where i can blow some shit up i ain't missing it”

“I don’t think a mission is really the best thing to do in your condition.”

“Are you serious?” the junker grumbled annoyed “Look, you can say what you want about things being ‘aggressive’ and ‘advanced’ but I went on a mission a week ago and I was fine!” He jabbed a metal finger against his chest, just at the top of his right rib cage. “If this crap is as bad as you say it is i doubt it got like that in a week.” He stopped, letting his prosthetic arm drop. “Look I know ya just doing your job, but please, let me just go on this one mission. By the sounds of it i won’t get to do another one for a while.”

Mercy sighed “So if i let you do this, the day after tomorrow you’ll start the treatment?”

“And if ya don't, i won’t.” That one got him a shove the doctor didn't stop. He deserved it. He was being childish and reckless, but if the explosives loving jester had his mind set on something, she knew no amount of medical warnings would stop him.

She shook her head defeated. “Fine. You can go, but we start as soon as possible after, Ok? We need to get on top of this so we know what we’re dealing with. This isn't a game Jamison, you need to start taking it seriously.”

Roadhog grunted in agreement and Junkrat gave her a small lopsided grin of thanks. Tomorrow was going to be awesome. He got to blow things up and be the good guy, what could be more fun? However, the day after was going to be the complete opposite, and the junker was dreading it. With every fiber of his being.


	4. Chapter 4

Symmetra wasn’t having a good day. She woken up late, something that would have gotten her into severe trouble back at Vishkar. She had also missed breakfast and only had minutes to pack up her stuff and board the dropship before they left for Dorado, and to top it all off the only seat left had been next to Junkrat. A very excited Junkrat, who smiled at her as she sat down.

“G’day Metra! Ya ready to show these Talon wankers who’s boss!” He laughed, taking a drink from the canister he kept strapped to his belt, before offering it to her. She declined politely waving the canteen away, disgusted at him drinking this early. The mad man with the explosives was getting drunk only hours before he’d be fighting. In very small cramped spaces. Between building. With her. This day couldn't get any worse.

With a sigh she lent back, closing her eyes and trying to block out all sight and sound of the smoky smelling junker. Absentmindedly, she started twisting and curving her fingers over the palm of her metal gauntlet in delicate shapes and flowing movements , glowing blue shapes forming out of nothingness. She smiled, her skills were so perfect she could create even with her eyes closed.

“How the hell do you do that?” It was Junkrat again, and as she opened her eyes she could see he was looking intensely at her metal arm and the hard light above it, obviously resisting the urge to reach out and touch it or the small blue diamond in her palm.

“It’s hard light technology,” She replied, carefully moving her arm away from his soot covered fingers. “An art I have trained in since I was just a child.”

“Wow…” Symmetra looked at the arsonist eyes. They were bright and full of interest and wonder, like a child at Christmas. They weren't the blank eyes she’d been seeing recently. His spark was back, and something about it made her smile. “How does it work?”

It surprised her to see him genuinely interested in something other than a bomb or grenade. “You create physical objects out of only light, although it takes years of studying and training. Vishkar has even used the the technology to create an entire city.”

“Vishkar? That’s the place Winston got you from right?”He asked, looking up as she nodded “Do you miss it? Like, you must have had a least one friend there you ain’t seen in awhile.”

The question caught her off guard. Since she had arrived at Overwatch she hadn’t thought much about the organization apart from in passing thought. Did she miss Vishkar? With its clean halls and rooms with not a thing out of place. Of course she missed it, she had to. After all it was the place where she grew up and was trained, but still, whenever she thought of the Architect Academy she didn't feel any sadness or an ache in her heart to go back. In truth she felt more comfortable here.

She turned back to Junkrat, who was still looking at her intensely, waiting for an answer. “How I feel about Vishkar is none of your business, they are going to bring order to the world and that is all that matters. And besides, how would you feel if as asked if you missed the Outback?”

“Yesh, i get it.” The junker rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed. “I guess I do miss the place a little, but I’m even more glad to be out of there.” He smirked turning his attention back to the glowing diamond in her hand, as Symmetra saw a glint of gold in his crooked grin. “Although this technology could really help the folks out there, not sure how they would feel about the whole ‘Order’ thing your little friends seem so keen on though.”

“Why not?”

“They aren't really big fans of suits and authority figures. Most of em just want to be left alone.”

“Well, if the people of the outback want to remain savages without guidance then they can.” She mumbled under her breath, regretting the words as soon as she saw the look of hurt on the tall junkers face. With a sigh, the lanky Australian turned away his smile fading, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shifting in his seat so he was closer to Roadhog and further away from her. Carefully, she moved her fingers away from her palm, the blue diamond disintegrating into sparkles of light. She didn’t mean to offend him, but it was true. From what she had heard the junkers were violent savages with no laws, just vigilantly justice. Punishment for most crime, no matter how small, was death, or being beaten within an inch of your life if you were lucky. The way they lived was practically animalistic, and for no reason, Symmetra assumed, other than that was just the way they wanted to be.

Besides, there were bigger things to focus on, like what they were going to do when they got to Dorado. She had no time to worry about Junkrats feelings when people lives were at stake. Why was he so excited? They were about to go into battle and he was grinning like an idiot. Did he not even think about the lives he was taking when he used his grenades, or was it just another bit of explosive fun?

She shook the thought out of her head, closing her eyes and letting the clinks and clangs of the ship lure her into a relaxed state. She had to focus on something other than the madman who was sitting beside her, his enthusiasm knocked but still bubbling away. Maybe sleep would help, she still had a long journey ahead of her.

* * *

 

“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” Junkrat yelled, pulling the chain on his rip-tire, making the engine splutter to life and sending it down a tight, poster covered alleyway into a group of mercs, like a bowling ball heading towards a group of pins. He stuck his fingers in his ears as the bomb went off, it was a beautifully loud explosion, the best he’d heard in ages. As soon as the dust had cleared he threw down a concussion mine and jumped on, detonating it and flying onto a nearby rooftop. The sun warmed his bare back and gunshots rang in his ears as he looked down and saw the chaos below. The Talon forces had been a bit more...feisty...than they had expected, but it was nothing they couldn't handle, and the fight so far had been a blast. For the first time since he found out he was dying, Jamison felt alive.

On a nearby rooftop he noticed a sniper. Carefully and with childlike glee, he pulled the grenade launcher off his back, grabbing a few red metal balls, complete with painted on smiley faces, off his belt and shoving them into the machine. With rough aim he pointed the gun at the sniper a pulled the trigger a few times. The small red bombs bounced onto the snipers roof before rolling to a stop right at their feet. Before they could even react the grenades had exploded, throwing them off onto the street below with a sickening crunch.

Noticing another group of talon mercs fast approaching his location, Junkrat hopped off the roof into another nearby alley. This one was next to a long pathway into another part of town. Paper decorations connected the buildings and some even had pinatas hanging off them. The streets were even more colorful than the last time he was here on business, although then he had left with his pockets a little heavier and had given the locals a present of a hole in their bank wall.

His peg leg let out a groan of protest as he hit the ground but thankfully it stayed in one piece, the last thing he needed was the old girl locking up. He pressed his body flat against the ally wall, the sun baked bricks burning his skin, and looked around the corner. It was hot and stifling. Although nothing compared to the hellish summers in outback, the heat was making sweat run down his face and back. The mercs were getting closer, and with a giggle he pulled another grenade out of his belt and removed the pin with a sharp canine, chucking it round the corner and right into the middle of the group.

It was only then he noticed a flash of blue, almost a second too late, running past the entrance.

“Oh bloody hell.” The junker groaned and, without thinking, reached forward and grabbed the back of Symmetra’s dress. He yanked her into the alley with him, covering her mouth with his one hand and her ear closest the the grenade with the other. The explosion went off and made his head ring as he heard agents fall to the ground, some screaming as their bodies got torn apart in a few seconds of burning heat. It didn’t please him to kill people, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't satisfied with the grenades effectiveness.

He didn’t have much time to admire his handiwork before Symmetra elbowed him right in the rips, which combined with the smoke, set him off on a violent coughing fit.

“What the hell was that for!” She hissed at him, her eyes filled with rage as she stared at him. He was now kneeling on the hot ground, clutching his chest at the point she'd made contact. The girl had surprisingly sharp elbows. “You scared the life out of me!”

“I was stopping you from getting blown up!” he wheezed back in protest between coughs, trying to catch his breath as his lungs burned like they were on fire. God did it hurt. Where the hell was Roady or Mercy when he needed them.

Looking up, Symmetra was still glaring at him, wiping away traces of soot his hand had left on her face, and rubbing the angry red mark on her neck where her collar had dug into her throat. “I thought you were one of them, putting you hand over my mouth like that! You need to think before you act.”

He glared back at her, trying helplessly to get his breathing back under control “Sorry if my rescue attempt was too _savage_ for you,” He spat the word at her venomously as he got shakily to his feet, bracing himself against a wall. He knew it was an overreaction, but with the feeling of knives in his chest, the lanky arsonist didn’t give a shit.”But I’d rather not see a teammate decorating the street.” With that he turned around and began walk away, still wheezing slightly with every breath.

To his surprise, Symmetra called after him “Are you ok?” Her voice was different. Concerned.

“What do you care. I’m just a savage junker, a criminal hired off the streets.” He reached the end of the alley turning around and throwing his arms up with a laugh before walking off “I’m replaceable!”

 

* * *

 

It was an hour later, and the battle was finally beginning to wind down. Symmetra was setting up her final turrets at their temporary defense. If she was right, which she almost always was, they should be enough to last them until the end of the fight. It had gone mostly in their favor, with the team only sustaining minor injuries that Mercy had healed in seconds. Things had gone almost perfectly.

Even so, as she brought the last turret into reality with a flick of her wrist, Junkrat’s words still rung in her ears. What did the explosive idiot mean, saying he was replaceable? He was such a drama queen. She ran a finger over her neck, the skin still red and slightly sore. The coughing fit had been a bit much, and the acidic tone in which he’d thrown her own words back at her had hurt more than him tugging her violently backwards. Still, he had saved her from a grizzly end. Mercy was an amazing doctor, but Symmetra doubted even she could raise the dead if all that was left was blown up mush. Maybe she had been a bit harsh,and driving her elbow into his chest may have been taking things a step too far. She made a mental note to apologize to him, professionally of course.

It wasn’t long before she felt a light breeze of Mercy landing behind her, putting a delicate hand on her shoulder “The junkers, Reinhardt and Tracer are just finishing up, the others will be here shortly.” She was smiling, but cocked an eyebrow when she saw the red ring around Symmetra’s neck. “When did you get that?” The medic questioned and traced a cold finger over the mark.

“A while ago,” She sighed “It was Junkrat’s fault. He yanked me out of the way of one of his bombs, but i got him back, elbowed him right in the ribs.”

Mercy still looked concerned “And was he ok?”

Symmetra was surprised, “Who, Junkrat? Well he had a very dramatic coughing fit,” She rolled her eyes, with a smile, if anyone knew how theatrical the explosive jester could be it was the doctor. “But he was fine.”

“Well as long as you were both ok.” Her voice was slightly clipped, but before Symmetra could even process the medics change of tone, her smile was back and she was waving at Zenyatta who was heading towards them. “Shouldn't be too long until the rest of them come back too.”

 

* * *

 

The journey back was calm and quiet. Everyone was worn out. Junkrat more than anyone. He was sat next to Roadhog, his head resting on the over sized body guards arm as he slept. It hadn’t taken him long after his encounter with Symmetra to find the merc and to continue blowing things up, but it wasn’t the same. He’d nearly killed her, one of his own teammates. Maybe Symmetra was right about him.

Once again, Hog had noticed something was wrong, and when ever the fighting stopped for a second he would grunt at the smaller junker asking him what was up.

“Its nothing mate, drop it.”

“…”

“Ok, it’s not nothing,” Junkrat groaned “but it’s fine mate.” He laid down a mine and tried to get ahead of his bodyguard. Unsuccessfully. The pig grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him back.

“Tell me.” The low grumbling voice was slightly louder this time

The lanky arsonist sighed, not telling the old hog now would just make things worse. “It’s Metra, she called us savages.” he mumbled, barely audible.

“Since when did we care what suits think?”

“I care because I think she’s right.” He kicked a nearby can with his pegleg, making it clank and bounce down the road, before glancing up, catching sight of himself in a shop window. “Have you looked in the mirror recently? We’re Thieves. Murderers. Savages. You're a big scary guy in a mask and I’m just a twat who blew half his limbs off. Do you ever think about the people you’ve hurt?”

“You’re going soft.” Roadhog growled

“I’m not.” He snapped back, his hands making fists at his sides as his nails dug into the palm of his good hand. “It’s just with all the shite going on right now, I realized that when I snuff it, I don’t want the legacy of ‘Jamison Fawkes’ to be one of a bag guy ya know? Until now I hadn’t really thought about it too much.”

The merc grumbled, before giving Junkrat a hard pat on the back and ruffling the younger junkers messy hair, making it look even more mad than usual. The first gesture hurt, but he could tell it was meant to be affectionate. Well, as affectionate as the notorious killer could get. “Well you’re with the good guys now Fawkes. Enjoy it”

He was enjoying it, and his second time in Dorado had been almost as fun as his first. When fights went as well as this, he wished they could last forever. Junkrat was on top of the world.

He had to admit, being a hero felt good.


	5. Chapter 5

It was ten am, and the morning after the successful mission. Junkrat and Roadhog were in their shared barracks, Junkrat was on his bed and Roadhog was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, with a tea cup that looked almost miniature in his huge over-sized hands. The smaller junker’s bed was a sea of chaos, his prosthetic arm was draped over his crossed legs and a can of orange paint was balanced precariously on a book. Lying next to him was one of Roady’s crossword books, and occasionally he would call over to the mercenary for help, swapping the pencil he had clamped between his teeth for the paintbrush in his hand and scribbling down the answer before going back to repainting his prosthetic. As he looked down the glasses he was wearing started to slip off his nose, forcing him to push them back up with his paint covered hand, smearing orange over the frames. They were something that Mercy had given to him when the two junkers had first arrived at Overwatch. After much fussing and protest, the doctor had given them both a full checkup, and part of that had shown that the lanky arsonist couldn't read what was right in front of his face. Although he never really wore the stupid bits of plastic and glass, and wouldn't be caught dead in them around other members of the team, if a mine or bomb needed fine tuning or the text in one of his stolen books was too small, they did help a lot.

He lent forward, reaching over to the paint can with his brush and almost pulling over the IV drip attached to his hand, earning a harsh grunt from roadhog.

“...”

“Alright mate! Geez, I’ll be more careful.” He grumbled sitting up, bright orange paint dripping off onto the white sheets and all down his arm.

An hour ago, after another long and boring speech from Mercy about side effects, during which he may have zoned out, and a bunch of medical forms with small print he’d tried to read unassisted before giving up and putting on the stupid specs, the doctor had stuck a sharp cannula in his hand and attached it to a bag of clear fluid covered in a bunch of warning labels a stickers. She’d then firmly told him to stay in the room. No tinkering in the workshop or testing bombs outside was allowed. She’d told Roadhog the same thing, telling the merc (who was now more like a violent babysitter) not to let him out of his sight, the pig grunting in agreement. He hadn't been happy about that. It was only an hour later and he was already going stir crazy enough to be doing crosswords. Bloody crosswords! He was meant to be blowing shit up not doing puzzles ment for the elderly.

Although, apart from slow insanity from being under house arrest, so far he’d been doing well. He’d only thrown up once, which the medic had said was probably due to nerves, not the treatment. Since then he had managed to keep his tea, and the biscuits Roady had stolen from the kitchen, safely in his stomach where they belonged. He’d also managed to resist the urge to rip the annoying needle out of his hand. Although that was mostly out of fear of what Mercy would do to him if he did. He’d never seen Ol’ Angel Wings angry, but he was sure it wasn't a pretty sight. However, the strangest thing that had happened since the chemicals from the IV bag started running into his veins was that the junker was cold. He was never cold. Even when he had first seen snow while him and Roady were in Kings Row, cold white flakes falling from the sky and onto his bare skin, he’d only felt lukewarm at most. Yet here he was, seriously considering putting on a shirt, with a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a shitty cape. Still, if this was all he was gonna have to put up with during the treatment then Mercy had really over hyped this side effects bullshit. He’d had limbs blown off for fucks sake, he could handle being a little chilly.

Junkrat looked back at the crossword.“Oi, Roady!” He called over to his body guard, who was now reading a book they had stolen from a library at some point, “What’s a 6 letter word for Evaluate?”

“...”

“Assess? You sure mate?” He grabbed the pencil out of his mouth and scribbled in the letters, looking back up at the masked mercenary “Well it fits for now.”

Roadhog grunted back at him just as Mercy entered the room.”How are you feeling Junkrat?” she greeted the two of them warmly before pausing, noticing the mess on the bed. Orange paint was all up his arms and over his glasses “What are you doing?”

“Painting my arm, although i think ah may have given the good one a coat too.” He gave her a lopsided smile and waved the prosthetic at her. “Oh, and doing one of Hog’s crosswords. Whats a 5 letter word for part of a flower?”

The medic thought for a second as she adjusted and checked various parts of the drip “Petal?” She watched as he scribbled down the word in his messy handwriting.

“Thanks.” He paused, looking over at what she was doing “So Doc, how much longer have I got to sit on me arse doing fuck all?”

“A few more hours at least.” The doctor looked down at the clipboard in her hand and made some notes before turning to him. “Have you experienced any side effects so far?”

He yawned rubbing the back of his neck “I’m freezing my tits off, but apart from that nothing.”

“That’s good, and maybe a shirt would help if your cold. I’m sure you own one.” She smiled handing him a thermometer while wrapping a velcro cuff around his arm “If you could just put that in your mouth for me while I do this.”

Junkrat snorted childishly at the request, ignoring the glare he was getting from Roadhog. “Sure thing.”

Mercy finished taking the junker’s blood pressure and checked the temperature on the thermometer with another soft smile “Well everything is looking ok. I’ll be back in another hour to check up on you.” She gave Roadhog a sympathetic nod as she left, making Junkrat scowl.

As soon as the door shut and the doctor was gone he let out a long groan, flopping dramatically back on the bed with a huff and almost spilling the can of paint onto the floor. At this rate he was going to go mad from isolation and cryptic crossword clues. “Hey Roady, give me a ten letter word for boring”

“...”

“Monotonous?” Yep. That sounded right.

 

* * *

 

The coffee shop Symmetra and Lena were sitting was cool and quiet. Relaxing music played and outside the hot midday heat was cooking stone street and anyone who wasn't under some form of shade, not that most of them minded or even noticed. Symmetra sighed and took a delicate sip form the herbal tea in front of her. It had been a long day, and as soon it cooled the two were going to head back to the watch point on top of the Rock of Gibraltar.

She had been sitting at breakfast that morning when Lena had jumped up behind her, wrapping her arms around her friend and making her jump and freeze up.

“Ah, sorry love, forgot you weren't a big fan of the whole hugging thing” She smiled sheepishly stepping back and clapping her hands excitedly. “You ready for a girls day out?”

“What? I don’t know Lena I’m really busy…”

“Come on! Please!” The cheery Brit looked at her with puppy dog eyes “You’ve been stuffed up in that workshop all week. You need a break!”

Symmetra sighed, her friend was right. She had spent all week working on the new teleporter, sometimes late into the night or even into the next morning. Maybe she did deserve a break. “Ok,” She asked cautiously “What is it we’ll be doing.”

“Just going down into the market, that’s all. Maybe getting a coffee. Then you can still come back and work if you want”

So that’s what they did, they spent the morning wandering around stalls of bright fabrics and spices. Some had meat, others had fish and some had rainbows of fruit and veg. The market was busy and loud, and for an environment that would usually make her uncomfortable, surprisingly Symmetra felt herself melting into it, absorbing all the colors, smells and sounds. For a moment she wasn't part of Overwatch, or someone trained as an expert in an unique art. She wasn't part of a major corporation who had taken her in and saved her from a life on filthy streets, and she wasn't someone who was constantly thrown into battles that could take her life from her.

She was just Satya Vaswani. A normal woman on a day out with a friend, and it felt nice.

Lena grabbed her hand and dragged her over to a nearby group of stalls in the shade. The two of them had decided It would be best to try and blend in, dress like ‘normal’ people. While Symmetra was wearing a cool blue sari, one of the only things she had brought with her from Vishkar, the Overwatch agent was wearing wearing shorts and a thin jacket to try and hide her chronal accelerator. The poor girl must have been boiling in the hot Gibraltar sun.

They spent another hour or two looking at the goods various venders had to offer in the stalls that had managed to get lucky and get a place in the cool shade. Most of these stalls sold more luxury items. One stall sold candles that smelt like exotic flowers, another sold tiny snow globes. Lena had brought one of them excitedly, telling her it was a late welcome gift for Mei. The scientist had joined them a few weeks before, and had quickly taken a liking to almost everyone on the team. Apparently she used to be a member of of Overwatch, stationed at a remote eco-watch point. Something had gone wrong at the watch point forcing her and her team to enter cryo sleep for decades. She was the only survivor. Symmetra was honored to be working with her.

The stall they stopped at last was selling silver and gold jewelry that sparkled like stars in the bright sun. Rings, necklaces and bracelets all neatly organised in rows and in cases. One part of the display caught her attention. Line after line of small silver charms decorated part of the table. She looked over them, there were animals, musical notes, hearts and stars and tiny sliver people holding hands. However there was one charm she kept coming back to, glinting at her and begging her to buy it. An adorable, little silver mouse with perfect round ears and a thin dainty tail.

Lena was about to leave and move on before Symmetra stopped her. “Hold on a second I want to buy something.” She turned to the vender with a smile, “How much for the little mouse?” she never really made impulse purchases, the thought of doing anything impulsive unnerved her, but she had to make an exception for the adorable little rodent. The vender smiled back, giving her the price and wrapping up the tiny trinket as she got the money out of her small turquoise purse.

The preppy Brit nudged her as they walked away, heading towards the nearby cafe for a drink and refuge from the heat “So what did ya buy, love?” she tried to glance in the bag but Symmetra pushed her away playfully.

“Just a lucky charm.” She smiled, softly placing the silver mouse in her purse.” I just felt drawn to it.”

 

* * *

 

Junkrat felt like shite. Complete bloody shite.

The lanky man lent back against the bathroom wall with a weak groan, sweat dripping off his forehead and down his face. There was no point getting up and going back to bed like he had the last few times, he’d just be back here again in a few minutes, lent over the toilet dry heaving since there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up. The chilly feeling he had felt earlier in the morning had turned into a horrible and uncomfortable damp feeling across every inch of his skin, and about fifteen minutes later he’d rushed to the toilet to see his dinner make a reappearance. Strands of blond hair stuck to his face as he lent his head back against the the wall and stared at the dim, flickering bathroom light, bright white dots still burnt into his eyes when he closed them.

He never felt this sick, not even the morning after he’d found his treasure. The night he had found it was one of the only times he had ever allowed himself to get blackout drunk in celebration, and the morning after he had regretted it wholeheartedly. The smallest sound had made his heart thump and his head spin, he knew that if someone or something had attacked him, in a situation where he couldn't even stand up or face the bright outback sun, he would have been royally fucked. He’d felt like an idiot for leaving himself in such a vulnerable state but at least then he’d chosen to get himself in to the mess. This time he hadn't had a choice.

If only he’d actually listened to Mercy instead of having a nap. He could have prepared himself for this crap and not have ended up a disgusting, sweaty, sick smelling heap on the cold tile floor. He was on the verge of tears for the fourth fucking time this week. The junker mastermind, the explosive madman who had stole the crown jewels and was one of the most wanted men alive had pissed off, leaving a sad, washed up sewer rat in his place. Even Roadhog could see that, he wouldn't be surprised if the mercenary handed in his letter of resignation any day now. Before or after beating him to a pulp for the location of his treasure.

After about twenty minutes of sitting on the floor, his uneven breathing the only sound in the room, the door opened with a creek and Junkrat groaned again at the noise, drawing up his knees and resting his forehead on the cool, refreshing metal of his pegleg. The room was still fucking spinning and the last thing he wanted to be wasting energy on was mentally preparing himself for Hog to begin his growing. “If you’re going to give me a lecture about how I should have listened to Ol’ bloody Angel Wings then fuck off. I’m not in the fucking mood mate.”

Who ever was at the door slowly walked up to him, their footsteps soft and unlike the old pigs heavy trotting. Mercy knelt down beside him, putting a delicate hand on his shoulder. She wasn't in her usual lab coat, but a fluffy white dressing gown, and from the worn out sound of her voice, she’d only just woke up. “Are you ok Jamison? Roadhog told me you were weren't feeling very well.”

Ah, so the Hog had gone and fetched the doctor. That was surprising. When he’d been getting in and out of bed constantly the old pig had just looked annoyed that his sleep was being disturbed, which was hypocritical considering there had been far too many nights he’d been kept awake by the mercs loud snoring. Still, at least he was getting his money's worth out of the bastard.

“I don’t know what your on about, I’ve never felt better.” He mumbled weakly trying to crack a joke but failing miserably. Turning his head, he looked at her over his crossed arms “So this is what it’s like? I’m going to have to deal this crap, every three weeks, for God knows how long?”

The medic sighed ”I'm afraid so,” She rubbed his back sympathetically in rhythmic circles, not seeming to mind the disgusting glistening sweat. The gesture was soft and motherly and the lanky Australian relaxed a little. ”But from what I know the first session is always the worst, I can give you some medicine for the sickness and you’ll get a little more used to the chemo eventually, I'm sure.”

“Great.” He moaned like a little kid burying his face back between his arms, “So this is my life now.” His head was thumping and he just wanted to sleep. It was one in the morning and he felt guilty for waking the medic up after she’d already spent most of her day caring for him. “Sorry you have to deal with me. You must have been asleep before Roady got you.”

“Your sick Jamison, and I’m a doctor. It’s my job to take care of you. I don’t mind being here, even if that means being up in the middle of the night.”

Junkrat shakily got to his feet, rubbing his eyes with his good hand and placing his metal prosthetic against the wall for support. “Sure, you care because it’s your job. Same goes for Hog, it’s his job to ‘look after me’ too. It’s what I pay him for.” he groaned running the hand back through his damp hair before letting it go limp at his side. “I just want to go back to bed. I think I’m fine now.” That was a lie. He wasn't fine and he’d probably be back again as soon as she was gone, but he wasn't going to say that and keep her up any longer. He’d rather die than go through this crap, and it wasn’t like dying wasn't a possibility.

“Then go back to bed, If you need me I’ll be in the clinic Ok?” she smiled and he could see dark marks under her eyes in the dim light that didn't help with his guilt at all, but with a nod and a forced, fake smile of his own he walked out of the bathroom. Getting back into his paint stained bed and wishing for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

Inside the workshop was peaceful and Symmetra was able to work without much interruption, the only disturbance she’d had was Torbjörn coming in to pick up some tools, but he had swiftly left, leaving her alone again. She looked down at the workspace in front of her where there was a chain, small and perfect rings of white metal carefully linked together. The bracelet was small enough to fit onto her thin wrist but not big enough to fall off during a fight.

She’d been up since the early morning delicately crafting the piece with great care.

Now her fingers were carefully and and expertly weaving together threads of different blue shades. The repetitive actions were calming and she allowed herself to get lost in the twisting and folding of the string, focusing only on the plaiting and braiding. It reminded her of hours spent as a child in her room back at the Academy, plaiting her hair or any bits of string she could find in an attempt to relieve her boredom. She’d soon grown out of it, it was childish wasting time that could have been spent studying playing with bits of scrap, but even so the repetitive motion was soothing.

The charm was sitting next to the bracelet on the desk in front of her, winking at her under the bright workshop lights. She’d expected to wake up and regret buying the trinket but instead she felt even more glad she’d gotten the little mouse. There was just something about the charm that drew her to it, although she didn't know what. Her attention went back to the braid in her hands, aqua blue painted nails crossing the threads without her even really thinking about it. It was nice to get some peace after the busy market yesterday and the battle the day before, just a little bit of time by herself to relax. She finished off the braid, tying a small knot at the end to stop it from unraveling and began to gently weave it through each ring of the bracelet.

It wasn't often she got to be alone now, there were always other members of the team about and since Junkrat had arrived she could no longer use the workshop as a place to go and think in the middle of the night. It seemed that whenever she was in the workshop he was there, or would be not long after, making a racket by throwing around garbage and scrap or humming annoyingly loud. He was always there, but recently she hadn't seen him. Not since he’d yanked her away from one of his bombs. Absent mindedly she traced over where the red line on her neck had been, it had not been there long, but it was long enough to lodge the encounter into her memory.

Carefully she picked up the mouse charm, inspecting the details as it lay in her palm. If he’d pulled her back a second later she could have been seriously injured, any more than that and she could have been dead. The lanky arsonist, the symbol of everything she hated, had saved her and she didn’t know how to feel about it. With a sigh she began to twist her finger over her gauntlet, a clasp for the silver rodent slowly forming out of nothingness. After carefully bringing the clasp into existence she attached the small mouse and clipped it to the bracelet. When the two junkers had returned to the temporary defense she’d quickly and formally apologized, but had only gotten a tired grunt and a mumbled “No problem” from the jester in reply. It hadn't been the response she’d wanted, but it was the one she had to accept.

Despite trying not to, she’d spent most the flight back looking over at him from the other side of the drop ship. He slept the entire way, his head gently resting on his bodyguard's arm. Symmetra couldn’t help but notice that he looked peaceful while he was sleeping, and a lot younger. Even with the fresh grime from the battle she could still see signs of freckles on the junkers face and the subtle hint of clean pale skin where his harness had shifted slightly from its usual position. His chest rose and fell with every breath and she felt her eyes wandering down his torso and to his hips were. Despite wearing a belt, his shorts loosely clung to his thin frame, but before she could...study...him any more, Lena had shocked her back to reality with a nudge and had started a cheery conversation.

Symmetra sighed shaking the junker from her mind and clasping the bracelet around her wrist, the little mouse looking back at her. It fit perfectly, of course, she’d made it with not a link out of place. The sleek, clean colours of the white, silver and blue matching her outfit exactly and making it seem like she’d never been without the charm. She grabbed a nearby cloth, cleaning up her work area before moving on to sleek white metal of her prosthetic arm.

She was so engrossed in her work she hadn't noticed the sound of the workshop door opening, or the clicking sound of of Junkrat’s pegleg as he walked in. She didn't even notice him dragging an office chair over.

“Afternoon Metra!” That she noticed. His voice made her jump and she turned around with a yelp, seeing his mostly sootless face inches from hers with a lopsided grin, giving her a glimpse of the gold in his teeth. “Thought I’d drop in and say hi, maybe do some work.” He rolled away from her, still grinning like an idiot from his little prank “Just don’t tell Mercy I’m here.”

She gave him a glare, he was a mess. His bare foot, leg and prosthetic were covered in a dusting of dirt, and dried paint was all up his left arm. Which she noticed was his only arm. His scrappy metal ligament was missing, leaving a bandaged stump just below his elbow. “Where is your prosthetic?”

“Drying.” The jester called over his shoulder and started rummaging through a box of scrap parts he'd collected from god knows where. “Spent most of yesterday painting the bloody thing so it’s still wet.”

“I didn’t see you doing it down here.”

“I did it in my room.” He replied matter of factly, yanking some random object out of the box and holding it up victoriously before throwing it onto the desk with a clang. “Angel wings practically has me under house arrest with Roady as a guard, I had to climb out a window to get away and avoid going mad.” He paused, rubbing his neck and biting his tongue with a laugh “Well, more mad than I already am.”

There was something about the junkers odd but playful expression that made Symmetra feel strange, strange in a way she hadn't really felt before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was different and unusual. She pushed the feeling away before she could think about it too much. “You climbed out a window?” Well that would explain the bare foot and all the dirt.

“And with only one arm too!” The lanky arsonist laughed but his smile faltered for a second as he wheeled back to the desk. “Roady will probably be here so to drag my arse back any minute. So ah need to get working.” He pulled a screwdriver out of a draw and began to dismantle the junk on the table, starting his humming as he worked. He was hunched over awkwardly, his good leg crossed on the chair, as if he didn't know how to position his lanky frame.

Symmetra looked over at him, tensing up and glaring at the source of the annoying sounds “Why is Mercy trying to keep you in your room.” She wished the doctor had been a bit more successful. Her day had been going great until he’d burst in like one of his bombs.

Silence.

The humming stopped for a minute or two and for a moment she wondered if he had even heard. She was about to repeat the question when he answered.

“Concussion. Hit my head jumping off a roof on the mission.”

Symmetra rolled her eyes.“Well don’t jump off roofs like an idiot if you don’t want to be stuck in your room.” She huffed, finishing her cleaning and throwing the cloth at him, hitting the side of his face with the damp fabric “Clean the paint off your arm. It makes you look like a child”

He didn't even flinch, picking up the cloth that had fallen onto the floor and throwing it onto the table. “I don’t care. I’m busy with this.”

Gods was he infuriating. One second he was bouncing off the wall the next he was sulking like a little kid. He need to pick an emotion and stick to it, his unpredictability was, once again, making her nervous. “What’s wrong with you.”

No answer, not even a reaction. It was like her asking him to clean up had suddenly drained him of his enthusiasm.

“All I was trying to do was help make you look presentable.”

Nothing.

“If you want to go around base with paint up your arm and looking like an idiotic child yo-”

“I get it! Bloody hell….” He growled suddenly, interrupting her mid sentence.

“Sorry?” She looked over at him and wished she hadn't. He was glaring at her and it was terrifying the way his amber eyes stabbed her with their piercing glare. She didn't know how she hadn't noticed when his face was inches from her earlier, but his eyes had large dark marks under them and his hair was messy and wild in a way that implied he hadn't slept, or if he had it was in fits and starts. “Junkrat all I was saying was -”

“I don’t care.” The response was rough and sharp, making her physically recoil from him. “I’m not prim and proper and perfect and clean like you. I’m a junker.” His breathing was heavy and his grip had tightened on the screw driver, making his knuckles a pasty white. After a few tense seconds he let go of the tool and took a deep breath, rubbing his face with his hand and leaning back in the chair with a creek. After a while his expression softened into something more sad almost as fast as it had changed the first time. “Look, I know I’m not as clean as you want me to be, hell, as clean as anyone here wants me to be, but back home we didn't have fresh water. If you washed in the stuff we had back there you got burnt. Bad.” He looked up to see if she was listening and drummed his finger on the table in slow, rhythmic taps. As if it physically hurt him to speak about his past. “If you found clean water you drank it, you didn't waste it on a bath. So sorry if i aint bloody spotless all the time like you.”

She hadn't thought about it like that. She knew the two Australians came from the wasteland environment of the outback, but since they arrived she’d assumed that the two junkers were just dirty out of laziness. The thought of the outback not having safe water hadn't even crossed her mind. Hadn’t the dirty streets she’d spent the first few years of her life on been the same? Any water full of dirt and other disgusting things. Now she felt like the idiot.

They spent the next half and hour sat in awkward, heavy silence, with both of them working quietly on their projects and Symmetra wishing for any sort of noise to fill the gap, even Junkrat’s annoying humming would have been better than the earsplitting silence. She was about to speak up when the door opened and Roadhog walked in. Immediately heading over to the sheepish looking junker and pulling him up by his harness. Even with the mask covering his face it was obvious he was annoyed.

“...”

She couldn’t hear or understand a word the large mercenary growled, but the lanky junker obviously could, as he responded as if he had heard everything as clear as a bell.

“Yeah, I know she said not to leave but I felt fine. I was just about to come back, I only wanted an hour of tinkering. That’s all.”

“...”

“Ok, maybe that last part was a lie.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly looking at the floor like a guilty puppy. “But i was going mad in there Roady! Come on mate you and I don’t exactly have the most sparking conversations.” The lanky arsonists gaze when back to Roadhogs. I just needed a break after- ” He paused, looking over at her as if he had only just remembered she was in the room, or existed at all. “Well, ya know.”

The looming shadow glanced over at her too, making her bones turn to stone under his gaze, before he grunted back sympathetically. Still, despite the tone, whatever he had said made Junkrat’s shoulders slump.

“Fine,” He groaned as the merc let go of his harness, “But no more crosswords ya hear?”. He looked over at Symmetra with a smirk and a small wave as his bodyguard almost dragged him out of the room. He was smiling his usual crooked grin again, almost as if their conversation had never happened. “See ya.”

“Goodbye Junkrat.” She mumbled back, returning to her work without even looking at him as he left.

 

* * *

 

Roadhog practically shoved Junkrat through the door of their barracks, and right into the gaze of a disappointed Mercy. Nearly making him fall off his pegleg and onto the floor.

“Oi careful! Im off balance ‘ere mate!” The jester huffed, waving his stump at the looming merc before turning to the woman in front of him “Er, Hi Doc.” He grinned sheepishly giving her a small salute.

The medic wasn’t impressed “I told you to stay in your room, just for today, and then you still ran off.” She rubbed her temple with a sigh like a disappointed mother. “After last night I thought you would listen.”

Ouch, that hurt. The junker scuffed his pegleg on the floor and walked over to the bed flopping backwards onto it. She was right, he’d felt awful all morning, and was feeling only slightly better now, but he needed to work. His stock was low and the next mission could be any day now. “Look I was bored ok? All i did was jump out the window and go to the workshop for a break.”

“You did what!?”

Ah, right. Hog was rough and violent, but he wasn’t stupid and probably had decided not to inform Mercy of his little, um, stunt. Probably for the best, until he’ just fucked up that is. He knew he was an idiot but sometimes he even shocked himself.

“Jamison you really shouldn't be doing anything like that, especially in your condition.”

“You make it sound like I’m 80 or pregnant. Or both.” He grumbled, resting his pegleg on his bedside table and almost knocking over the lamp that was sitting on there. “It’s just cancer.” It was just a word, just six letters put together, but it made his mouth go dry when he said it. It wasn't ‘just’ cancer, at the moment it was more of a danger to him than any bullet.

“You need to start-”

“Taking it seriously, I know…”He interrupted her with a groan. The night before had really changed his opinion on that. The pain in his chest and the burning in his throat had finally made the whole thing sink in. And even though he wouldn’t tell Roady or Mercy, he was scared. Everything was suddenly very, very real, and he could feel it with the stabbing in his lungs after every breath. Trying to live up to his usually excited and annoying self was hard, and Symmetra had managed to rip through the facade so easily it made him angry at himself for yelling at her and for not trying harder to stay hyper. He was still drained from getting no sleep last night. Even after the doctor had gone back to bed he was still getting up every hour or so feeling awful and had threatened Roady when he thought he was going to retrieve the doctor again. It wasn’t like he would be able to do any lasting damage to the Hog on a good day, never mind when he was in this state, but it was enough to stop the old mercenary anyway.

Mercy walked over to him, perching on the edge of the bed “The reason you need to be careful is because your immune system is going to be weak, and will get weaker,” She sighed, folding her hands in her lap “And it will be quite as shock because it was fairly strong. If you catch someone's cold, or a simple bug, it could make you very ill. That’s why i wanted you to stay in here.” the medic put a hand on his shoulder with a smile “But if you want to leave tonight, you can, just promise you’ll be careful ok?” The junker could tell she wasn't particularly happy about the situation, but was glad she wasn't going to keep him locked in his own room any longer. No more crosswords. Thank god.

He looked up at her and smiled with a nod, sitting up. “Sure thing doc, I’ll be careful. It ain’t like Roady isn’t going to be around most of the time anyway. And now i won't have to make any more great escapes.”

Mercy let out a small giggle before she got up and walked over to Roadhog. The two exchanged a few words that Junkrat couldn't hear, which annoyed him, before the doctor left with a wave. After a few seconds Roadhog tuned back to him with a grunt, he didn't look as annoyed as before but still didn't seem pleased by the jesters antics.

“...”

“Ya know what mate, I think I’ll wait a while before going back to the workshop.” He laughed running his hand through his hair with a grin “I actually just want a nap.”

The old pig let out a groan that set the junker off again, roaring with laughter.


	7. Chapter 7

“Surprise love! Me and Symmetra got ya this as a little welcome present, ah hope ya like it!” Lena beamed, handing Mei a small box. It was wrapped in icy blue paper decorated with little white snowflakes and had a neatly tied bow wrapped around it. It was just after breakfast and while the others had left soon after they had finished eating to go about their daily tasks, the three women had remained, talking to each other about various topics until Lena had remembered the gift. It had been about three days since they had brought the tiny snow globe but the small scientist had been busy working on projects of her own, and the two thought it would be best not to disturb her.

“That's so sweet, you shouldn't have!” She smiled, taking the present and carefully removing the wrapping, letting out a small laugh when she saw what was inside. ”A snow globe! I love it.” She gave the glass ball a small shake, making glitter swirl around the small ceramic polar bear sitting inside. The tiny flakes glittered and sparkled like freshly fallen snow.

“We have to make sure ya feel welcome ‘ere love!” The cheery Brit grinned “So how are you finding the team?” She took a sip from the teacup in front of her, waiting eagerly for an answer.

“Oh its wonderful! Everyone is so nice!” she paused for a moment “Well almost everyone.”

Symmetra frowned, she knew exactly who the small scientist was talking about. When Mei had first arrived at Overwatch Junkrat had begun his usual taunting and teasing, along with a barrage of nicknames, quickly annoying the new, well returning, member. She couldn’t blame her, the jesters personality was certainly grating.

“Everything has changed so much, but you, Mercy and Winston are barely any different. Like old times! Everyone back together again!”

She always felt odd when ever anyone talked about ‘the old times’, about the golden age of Overwatch. It was a time she wasn’t a part of, a time she had only heard of from the tv in her dorm at the Academy, and she always felt a little more lonely whenever it became a conversation topic. She wasn't the only new member of overwatch who had joined since the recall, there was Zenyatta, and of course the junkers, but she felt she was the only one without a companion, the only one without a friend she could joke about ‘the good old days’ with. She had Lena, but as close as she felt to the perky agent they didn't have any memories that were outside of the watch-point's walls. There were the old members, the student and master, the criminal duo and her. Alone.

Lena seemed to notice something was up and quickly gave Symmetra’s hand a friendly squeeze “Sure the old times were good, but I’m sure the new times are gonna be just as great! Maybe even better.” She laughed “We need some fresh faces with the oldies like Reinhardt and Torbjörn about!” Mei joined her giggling and Symmetra smiled slightly at the joke. It wasn’t very polite to make fun of your elders, but she was sure the two wouldn’t mind the lighthearted comment.

Mei tuned to her still beaming “You’re one of the new members aren't you, why did you decide to join?” it was a simple, friendly question but she felt the same way as she had when a lanky arsonist had asked her whether she missed home. Why had she joined Overwatch?

“I am on loan from Vishkar to assist Winston, Overwatch is working towards their goal of world order so I am honored to help.” She smiled, hoping the answer was good enough and praying that her discomfort couldn't be read from her features.

“And we’re honored to ‘ave her!” Lena chipped in a hint of pride in her tone “ The technology Vishkar have is amazing, and our Symmetra is an expert, I’m sure she could tell you all about it.”

She felt herself blush a little, it wasn't often she received compliments on her gift. “W-well i wouldn't say I'm an expert, but if you had any questions i would try my best to answer them.”

The scientist nodded and was about to reply when she suddenly frowned. Symmetra thought she had said something to offend her team mate before she turned around, following her gaze and soon found herself with the same expression.

In the kitchen she could she the lanky frame of Junkrat scavenging for food, pulling bags and cans out of cupboards with a ridiculous amount of noise and adding them to a growing pile in his arms. Despite the chaos there seemed to be some order to what he was doing as he occasionally looked down at a list in his metal hand, which was now probably the neatest part of him. The paintwork was surprisingly well done and without a chip or scratch. She hadn't seen much of him the past few days after their argument in the workshop. Since then a small selection of his scrap and tools had disappeared and she could only assume he had moved them to his barracks. Not that she was complaining. Not seeing him for more than a few minutes was becoming an occurrence she convinced herself she didn't mind. He hadn’t been coming down for meals with his bodyguard either and it was odd seeing the looming mercenary sitting alone. The only person who had approached him was Doctor Ziegler, and even she had left him alone not long after. Still seeing Junkrat and his little collection of food confused her. What in the gods names was he doing?

He seemed to realize he was being watched and spun around, giving the group an awkward wave “Afternoon ladies! Don’t mind me!”

“What the hell are you doing!” Lena exclaimed, getting up and walking over to him “Those supplies are for everyone”

The junker smiled smugly “Ah, but i have a note! From Mercy, look.” he precariously balanced his loot in the crook of his metal arm and pulled a wrinkled note from the pocket of his shorts, handing it to her with a dramatic flourish “Ta da!”

She took the note, reading it carefully before handing it back with a huff and a scowl “Why is Mercy letting you take food?”

“Cause I’m her best patient mate!” He laughed his usual, annoying, hyena like laugh, grabbing a six pack of soda and shoving both pieces of paper back in his shorts. He looked back at where the other two women were sitting “Nice snow globe snowball, where’d ya get it?”

“It’s a welcome present, from Tracer and Symmetra.” Mei replied almost with a snarl. Again, Symmetra couldn't blame her, they had been having a civil discussion until the jester had arrived and ruined it, like he seemed to ruin everything. She found herself, once again, wishing for the junker to disappear.

“Aww, you never got me an’ Roady a present.” He tried his best to mock offence but was smiling too much for it to look genuine.

“I didn’t want to. And besides what would i have got you, all you like is bombs.”

The lanky Australian paused for a second and shrugged “Eh, fair enough.” He gave the cheery Brit a gentle shove out of the way and walked over to the table, taking a closer look and grinning at the annoyed looking architect when he saw her glaring. “It’s quite a beauty.” His eyes flicked to her as he said the words and she couldn't help but blush angrily, setting him off howling with laughter once again, almost dropping the food in his arms. How dare he. How dare he embarrass her in front of her colleagues. He was such a child, an immature child who by this point had laughed himself into a coughing fit, still giggling madly between wheezes. “Oh Metra, you should see ya face.”

Before she could think about her actions she had brought her hand down on the table with a soft bang, making both Mei and the arsonist jump. “For once in your life Junkrat, could you just act mature. Go away, you’re just being a pest.” She paused, trying to calm her tone “And it’s not Metra. Its Symmetra. We are not friends, we are colleges, there's no need for childish nicknames.”

His smile faltered a little “Geez sheila, ya know me, it’s just a joke. You found it funny right Tracer?” When he only got another glare from the agent, his grin dropped all together. If she wasn't so furious she may have even felt sorry for him “Fine. I’m leaving. Sorry I interrupted your little tea party.” He walked off, his peg leg clicking on the floor, but when he got to the door he stopped, “Ya know what Symmetra,” He called over his shoulder, his voice almost serious “If you took that fucking stick out ya arse you’d be almost likable.”

He was gone before she could reply, leaving her seething with anger in her seat.

 

* * *

 

Junkrat was sitting on the barrack floor, neat-ish piles of cans, bags and packets surrounding him as he checked each thing off a list Roadhog had made. With every tick he made he pressed a little harder on pencil and he was surprised the wood hadn’t splintered in his hand. He’d been muttering angrily under his breath for the entire time he’d been sorting. Everything was going shite and he was pissed. Really, fucking, pissed.

After what he assumed was some bargaining with Mercy, Roadhog had told him that he could keep some of his tools, and a small amount of certain food, in the barrack. By the sounds of it the two had been trying to think of ways to keep him occupied in the future, and stop any more escapes. God that annoy him. Why didn't mercy just talk to him, not the old mercenary. He wasn't a child for fucks sake, and they were _not_ his parents. His parents were long dead. He practically brought himself up in the wasteland, survived for years all alone before he’d hired Roadhog to kill the bastards hunting him or just generally protect him from people who wanted to kill him. He had _not_ hired him to be his mother.

He did another sharp tick, graphite dusting in the page and smudging all up his hand. He’d got some things that weren't on the hog’s list of canned food and whatever ‘healthy’ garbage Mercy had recommended. Not that he gave a fuck. As soon as he got his appetite back he’d eat whatever he wanted, and he’d eat the stupid pigs body weight in chocolate if he had too, just to prove the bloody point. He’d been hoping the kitchen would be empty so long after breakfast but he’d been wrong. Of course there had to be people there, and of course one of them had to be Symmetra and, of course, she had to give him another stupid lecture. All she ever did was fucking lecture him, and the one time he’d tried to be nice to her, do things the civil way that she liked, she’d called him and anyone he’d ever cared about a savage. How the bloody hell was he meant to be a ‘good team player’ when she was such a cunt to him? It hurt far more than he thought it would, far more than it should have hurt when she had said they were not friends. Sure it was true, but for some reason it made him feel awful. He was drawn to her and drawn to her skill. Ever since she had first turned her nose up at his mess and his handmade gear made from whatever scrap he could find during his and Roady’s first week, he’d had this feeling deep in his gut to show her she was wrong about him. Although so far he felt like he’d only proved her right.

Another violent tick.

Why did he even bother? He’d never been good with people, even in the fuzzy, smoke covered memories of before the fusion core exploded he remembered older kids pushing him over at school and then laughing when he cried for his mum. She’d always tell him to just ignore them or be nice, to ‘kill them with kindness’, but it never worked. Besides, it didn’t matter because he was the one who was laughing now. As far as he knew they were all dead too. With the junkers he never had to be ‘nice’ or ‘likeable’. He never had to be ’civil’, ‘clean’ or ‘polite’. He just had to survive, and it turned out he was pretty good at that. He’d never really had someone, or had the time to _find_ someone he could even begin to consider a friend until he had hired Roady, offering the brutal mercenary half of his treasure in exchange for protection. Any relationships back home were short, and often not very sweet. Companions died before they could be considered friends and any other sort of intimacy was often with a stranger after too many drinks at one of Junkertown’s gritty bars. He assumed the partnership would go the same way, with one of them killed before they even had a chance to learn each other's names, but that didn’t happen. At first he wasn't very keen on the old hog, and was sometimes even scared of the looming shadow he had hired, but after a few close calls he warmed up to the pig and it looked like the pig had grown to tolerate his antics as well. Not long after the two had joined forces, they had left the outback and started on their international crime spree of thievery and murder, until they had ended up here doing the complete opposite. Somehow.

He could hear Roadhog grumbling and trying to get his attention, but he ignored him, viciously marking off more items. Life wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he have lived in Sydney, hell. anywhere that wasn't a fucking irradiated wasteland. What kind of life could he have had if he’d just been normal. With a warm home. A mum, a dad and maybe even siblings. Maybe with his knack for chemistry he could have been a scientist, with a fancy lab coat and all that safety equipment Mercy always bugged him about. Ha! Stupid suits like Snowball and Metra wouldn't turn up their noses at him then. He could blow shit up and be respected for it instead of being called a nuisance. It wasn’t like his explosions were just useless destruction, they'd got the team out of quite a few tight spots, people just found them useless and annoying. Like him.

“Junkrat.” Roadhog grumbled again, but the lanky arsonist ignored him, trying not to let the small vision of happiness slip from his mind.

“Fawkes” This time his tone was harsher and more firm, and a lot harder to ignore. Like he was having and order barked at him. He was probably winding up the Hog and would pay for it later, but right now he didn’t care.

“Jamison!”

“WHAT!” He shouted back before he could really process the action, the pencil finally splintering in his clenched fist and small spikes of wood stabbing into his hand. He’d fucked up now. The smaller junker had only shouted at the merc a few times since they had know each other, and most of those times had ended with him being practically thrown against the nearest wall and threatened angrily, the cold metal of the Hog’s hook brushing his throat. The old mercenary looked surprised at the sudden outburst too. Well, as surprised as Junkrat could make out from under the mask.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

He looked down, shocked at the steadiness of the voice and the lack of anger in his tone. Small splats of crimson red dotted his legs and the note pad in bloody patterns. “Shit.” He mumbled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and just making the problem worse “shit, shit, SHIT!” He got up quickly, almost tripping over his pegleg as he stumbled to his feet, grabbing an unorganized wad of tissues out of the box by his bed. This happened all the time back in the outback, and since they had left too. It was one of the side effects of radiation poisoning he’d dealt with most his life, but bloody hell did it have to happen now? Couldn’t he get a break? Still at least Roady hadn't yelled at him or broke his spine. That had to be a plus. One positive. One good thing to hold on to.

Right?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took nearly a week to release this chapter :/ It was quite hard to get what i wanted down and i was busy getting ready for my holidays. Due to said holidays i don't know when the next update will be but I'm hoping to update at least once in the next two weeks I'm away. In the meantime i hope you enjoy this chapter now its finally here!

BANG!

Junkrat let out a loud laugh as the mine detonated, creating a cloud of dirt and scorching the grass around it. He was on the test field, giggling madly as he tested out his fresh stock and some of his new prototypes, the explosions getting bigger with every new bomb. Winston had somehow guessed he was finding ways to make his explosives pack more punch and had assigned Reinhardt to keep an eye on him, and to stop him from blowing himself up. Surprisingly he didn't mind, the big hearted giant was one of the only members of the team who had been genuinely nice to him since he arrived, although sometimes the affection was a little too much. He almost skipped over to the remains of the mine, whistling as he went. All that was left of the device was an unidentifiable piece of twisted metal, blackened with soot and ash. Perfect.

“Roady! Mark that one down as a success!” The jesters voice happily rang out to the mercenary who was sitting on a nearby bench more interested in his book than the younger junker. With a grunt and a nod the large merc scribbled something down in an orange notepad that looked the size of a postcard in his hands. Junkrat reached into battered brown bag he dragged over with him, putting his hand in it and pulling out another mine like it was a lucky dip. After throwing it down carelessly on the spot of burnt grass the previous mine had left behind he walked back to the ‘safe distance’ Mercy had enforced after the one time he’d almost be skewered by his own shrapnel. Having tiny shards of metal tweezed out of his chest while the doctor told him off wasn't on the top of his list of best life experiences and he didn't really want to repeat it. He pulled the detonator out of his pocket, his fingers buzzing and itching to push the trigger. Using bombs and mines in battle was rewarding, but nothing could compare to testing his inventions out. In the middle of a fight he didn’t have time to appreciate his bombs or really admire the destruction they caused, but here he did. He wiggled his fingers one more time, and gave Roadhog a thumbs up before pushing down the button.

BANG!

The bomb went off with another cloud of dirt and dust, bigger and louder than the last and leaving an impressive sized hole in the ground where the mine once was. He couldn't help jumping up and down in glee, his peg leg creaking and protesting. His ears were ringing from the noise but god did he feel great.

“Zat vas a big one! Gut gemacht friend!” Reinhardt’s larger than life laugh could be heard from across the field and he couldn’t help but smile a little more at the support. It felt nice to get a comment on his bombs that wasn’t calling them stupid or annoying. His mines were important to him, after all he made each one by hand from his own schematics, so getting a compliment on one made him feel warm and fuzzy in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He reached back into the bag and pulled out a small grenade, rolling it in his fingers and looking at the messy smiley face drawn on in black marker. The metal casing was cold against the pads of his fingers and the round shape had little bumps and dents in it. With a sharp canine he removed the pin, throwing it and putting his fingers in his ears ready for the explosion.

…

Nothing.

Well that was bloody shite.

He kicked the dirt in front of him, sulking like a little kid as he walked over to the annoyingly intact grenade. Dam thing was a fucking dud, why the hell hadn't it exploded? Had he mixed the explosives wrong? That couldn't be it, he used the same process he always did with Hog keeping watch for mistakes. Maybe he hadn't put enough inside the grenade? Or he’d used too much. That had happened a lot when he had first started making the things, filling up the small metal capsules with too much of some of his first attempts at explosives, hoping for a big bang but getting nothing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crack and a force that threw him harshly onto his back with a thud. He froze for a second, looking up at the clear blue sky before letting out a weak but mad laugh, giving the two large men at the other side of the field a quick wave to show he was ok and not a littered pile of giblets.

Or maybe the stupid thing was just delayed.

He sighed, sitting up and trying to wipe some dirt off his face but only smearing it around and just making the mess worse. By the looks of it he hadn’t gotten hurt apart from his back which was now aching like a bitch, but he’d had worse. Half of his limbs were still there and the prosthetics had held up fine, although he was strangely sad to see his arm had got a few new scratches and a fresh layer of grime, the bright orange paint now slightly duller. He’d have to clean it up in a week or two, or whenever he had his next shower. The junker got to his feet, his peg leg letting out a strangled groan. Ol’ girl was probably gonna give out any day now and he really had to remember to fix her, otherwise he’d be in for a nasty shock next mission if it broke just as a talon bastard was on his tail.

Slinging the brown bag over his shoulder he walked back to where Roady and Reinhardt were, sitting down next to the old hog and picking up the small note pad, flicking through the comments. Despite his huge hands Roadhogs writing was neat and simple compared to his own mad scribble. Not that he minded, his messy writing meant no one could steal his ideas or find out how his bombs worked.

“So everything is up to usual standards ‘cept the grenades, bit of a delay problem there.” He laughed nervously, getting a grunt from Hog who was still reading his book.

“...”

“I know going over to live explosives is a bad idea mate,” He huffed, jotting something down on the pad “But these things ain't designed with a delay, i thought it was dead.”

“...”

“Roadhog is right,” Reinhardt boomed, his voice stern “It was still dangerous to approach it. You could have been injured.”

Junkrat grumbled something back under his breath, the old grampar was right but he didn’t want to admit it. He’d been a reckless twat and could have lost another limb or worse, and he didn’t need Mercy on his back anymore than she already was. Annoyed he shook his head, trying to push the thought to the back of his mind. Spinning the pencil in his fingers and making a few more notes of his own, he tried to claw back some of his enthusiasm. The prototypes were next, and they were always the most interesting. He pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and quickly tinkered with his pegleg, trying to buy himself a little more time on the worn out piece of junk, before getting to his feet with a huff, grabbing the large brown bag and returning to the test field.

Reaching back into the bag he pulled out a new mine and threw it down, the metal circle rolling slightly before falling flat on its base. He walked over to the safe point, reached into his pocket and pushed the button on the detonator. A cloud of thick black smoke began to work its way up from the device in a steady stream. Winston had ‘requested’ that the lanky junker tried to make some more distraction based weapons, and although he had pretended to be uninterested and unimpressed he was actually fairly excited about the things he had come up with, and proud that he had managed to make them. The smoke mine was boring, but it was just the beginning.

The next bomb was quite oddly shaped, like an oversized soup can. He rolled the cylinder to an empty part of the field, pulling a smaller detonator from the bag and turning it on. He stuck his fingers in his ears and pressed down on the red button, causing a loud and deafening whip like crack as the can quickly imploded into twisted metal. All the ground around the device remained undisturbed and Junkrat grinned ecstatically at the result. Loud but harmless, and not a waste of his precious chemicals. A perfect decoy.

He was just about to set up the next mine when he noticed a familiar hint of blue out of the corner of his eye. Symmetra was walking towards them and she made her way over to Reinhardt and Roadhog, sitting on a bench a little away from the looming junker. What the fuck was she doing here? He’d barely seen her the last week and had only spoken to her briefly in the workshop, either to say ‘hello’ or ask if she’d seen a tool he had lost. By the looks of it she was still all worked up over his little ‘light hearted’ suggestion. Besides she hated explosions, so why would she come out here? After a few more seconds of staring at his teammate, trying to answer his own question, he noticed Roadhog was glaring at him and with one last confused look he went back to his mines. The next explosive was going to be a loud and angry bomb that disintegrated into evil and twisted shards of flying junk, but he found himself choosing a different device. It was a chunky disk, quite a lot heavier than his other bombs, that he placed down with a fraction more care and caution than he gave to other mines before retreating even further away than Mercy’s recommendation. This was gonna be a big one. With itchy fingers he gave the three other team members a quick thumbs up and once again squeezed the detonator in his pocket.

…

The bomb let out a soft whisper, and if it wasn't for the huge cloud of dirt and rather large crater in the ground he might have thought the mine was another dud. The device had worked perfectly. A silent, but extremely deadly, mine. He couldn't help but look back over to where the vishkar agent was sitting, trying (unsuccessfully) to read her reaction. He couldn't see any recognition in her features, and even if he could he guessed he wouldn't see anything he wanted in them. With a sigh he went back to his testing. Why was he still trying to impress her when she’d made it quite clear she didn’t care? About him or about his bombs.

 

* * *

 

Symmetra had heard the cacophony of explosions that had distracted her from her work and had decided to come and investigate. It didn’t surprise her when she saw Junkrat messing around on the test field with Roadhog reading on a nearby bench, but she had been intrigued as to why Reinhardt was there too. He didn’t seem the type to get involved with the junkers games. The big hearted knight had happily explained to her Winston’s worries, and had also shared that he found the testing quite amusing. She had to admit it was interesting seeing the jester jumping around passionately with his bombs, each one somehow different from the last in either appearance or in what they did. However they all still made horrible bangs that hurt her head and vibrations that she could feel even this far away, along with their usual chaos. Well, all but the first mine she’d seen. It had been quite a surprise, the almost silent device had done swift and devastating damage to the hard dirt field and she didn't even want to think about what it would do to a person caught up in its range. She couldn’t help but find herself wondering how he had made it. Part of her couldn't believe that she was interested in his toys, but curiosity was getting the better of her with every passing second, gnawing on her like some sort of demonic temptation.

Symmetra found her eyes drawn to the orange notebook that sat on the bench between her and the junkers looming bodyguard. The cover was wrinkled and torn, with familiar smiley faces doodled on top of it. It almost felt like the faces were mocking her, they knew the answer to the bombs secrets and she didn’t, and gods she wasn't going to ask the arsonist himself. Not after what he had said to her in the mess hall. She was still mad at him, even a week later. The bomb obsessed madman still hadn’t apologised.

“Look if you must. He won’t give a shit.”

The low rumbling voice made her jump and she realised that the large mercenary was staring at her from under his mask, his gaze making her blood run cold. He hadn't said anything intimidating, but getting caught by him was still enough to send shivers down her spine. This must have been the first time she had heard any clear words from beneath the mask, and she had almost begun to believe that when he did talk, if at all, his voice would be strange and alien like. Instead his it was deep and raspy, like he was struggling to breath. Not what she had expected at all. How long had he been silently watching and staring at her? Symmetra didn’t want to think about it too much, instead looking back to the book with its worn orange colour. If the person closest to the excitable junker said he wouldn't mind, surely there would be no harm in her taking a look. Carefully, and a little hesitantly, she reached out and picked up the notebook with the tips of her fingers, trying to get as little dust and grime on her clean hands as possible. When she opened the notebook she was surprised to find it filled with fairly detailed sketches and schematics for mines, grenades, the frag launcher Junkrat alway had with him in battle, and even his rip-tire. Each drawing was surrounded by scribbled notes and instructions she couldn't quite make out due to his messy handwriting, but the information was detailed. Far more detailed than she would have expected from someone like the lanky jester.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was definitely impressed. Even after years of the best possible education, by some of the top professors in the world, she wouldn't have ever thought of some of the structures Junkrat had come up with, and part of her, an annoyingly right part of her knew why. They were mad and chaotic. There were no order to the designs, the thoughts he had lovingly scribbled onto the pages. Every now and again she would come across three or four pages of unfinished ideas before the next completed schematic. How could he just abandon ideas half finished? Didn’t it drive him mad? Well more mad than he already was. If he started a project why didn’t he finish it before he started the next? The junker continued to confuse her  
.  
“What ya looking at Metra?”

She jumped again at the voice, dropping the notepad onto the floor. Junkrat was looking down at her, his hair and face covered in a fresh layer of soot and his chest rising and falling slightly faster than usual, as if he was out of breath. Noticing what she had dropped, he bent down and picked up the book with a lopsided smirk, his pegleg creaking under the sudden weight change.

“You been marveling at my stunning intellect?” He grinned, thumbing idly through the pages. Symmetra felt herself going a little red with embarrassment and a small amount of anger, but it was mostly embarrassment.

“Roadhog said you wouldn't mind if I looked,” She tried to keep the tone of her voice calm and formal, the last thing she needed was him teasing and mocking her even more. She didn’t want him to think he was forgiven for his vulgar comment and for the way he had embarrassed her for blushing last time. “But if it was a problem I apologise”

“Nah, it’s fine.” The junker laughed, his expression turning to something slightly more sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck “So, erm, since you had a look, what did you think of em?”

“They were quite interesting for someone like you.” That was a lie, the designs and ideas were more than just ‘interesting’. She wished she had had just a little more time to pour over the sketches in the little orange book before he had returned. She’d have to pay a little more attention to his projects from now on. As much as she hated to admit it the lanky australians designs could help with her own technology. “There a quite a few half finished schematics, why?”

“I gotta get the ideas down before ah forget ‘em, always got time to flesh em out and make them work later.” He let out another mad laugh, stuffing the notebook into his pocket. “And as for ya first comment, well I’m gonna take it as a complement, best I’ve got from a suit.” The lanky jester stuck his tongue out at her, earning himself a glare, and turned around. Walking back to his bodyguard, he collected up his stuff before heading over to the main base, excitedly chattering at the merc who was showing little interest in what his boss was saying. Not that he seemed to mind, by the looks of it he’d keep talking whether Roadhog was listening or not.

As she watched him walk away her thoughts went back to the complicated devices in the sketch book, their amount and detail still surprising her. Junkrat was mad, rude and completely insufferable, but maybe he wasn't as stupid as she had originally thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY this took so long to post. My holiday ended up being a lot more busy than i thought, so i only ended up writing 1000 words in 2 weeks, and I've been busy back at home too. If you follow me on Tumblr (http://mysteriousdreaming.tumblr.com/) you'll also know I had some trouble getting motivated to just sit down and write this due to some hate and general procrastination. BUT ITS HERE NOW! EVERYTHING IS GOOD! Hopefully we'll get back to a least 1 update a week. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter where junkrat messes with his rod a lot.

Junkrat was just over halfway down the corridor to the workshop when his peg leg finally gave out with a one last dying screech. The piece of broken junk folded awkwardly under his weight and he found himself suddenly thrown on to the hard ground of the outpost, his outstretched arm stopping him just centimeters before he face planted the floor.

Great.

The lanky junker let out a sigh, gripping onto the thin rail that ran down the corridor and pulling himself up shakily, hopping on his good leg as he tried to balance himself against the wall. His prosthetic swung uselessly at the broken joint as he made his way slowly to the workshop, bracing himself against the rail and using it like a crutch to push himself forward. Out of all the days the stupid thing could have broken it had to be the day that Roady was out on a mission. It was a small one, some sort of information pick up with only Mercy, Tracer and the old hog but it still meant he was out all day and not here, doing his job of being the lanky arsonists bodyguard. Even if the only thing he needed protection from was his own rusty leg. If the large mercenary was here he could have gotten a piggy back ride, or even just have been carried instead of being in the rather embarrassing situation he was in now. Looking like a complete wanker hopping down the corridor. Thank god everyone else was at breakfast.

He’d been self conscious about his leg for as long as he could remember. He never felt the same way about his arm, he didn’t give a shit if he had the metal contraption on or not although having it on made life obviously easier. Maybe it was because he was only a kid when he lost his leg, or the trauma of the situation he lost it in. Hell, maybe it was the fact that without his prosthetic he was defenseless and vulnerable. You can’t fight when you’re missing a limb, and you definitely can’t run. Whatever it was, whenever he had to take the thing off he felt uncomfortable and having anyone else but Roady around made it worse.

Finally the doorway to the workshop came into view and Junkrat practically threw himself at the closest office chair, gripping onto the desktop to stop him from rolling halfway across the room. Rummaging through his desks drawers he tried to find his tools but couldn't, slamming the drawer shut and tapping his foot on the ground in frustration. Stupid fucking things were still upstairs in his room, and he had no way to fetch them unless he wanted to hop all the way there and back. God he was such and idiot. He was coming to the workshop to do some work away, how had he expected to get anything done without his tools? Was he gonna use his teeth to tighten screws and bolts? Now he had a ‘broken leg’ and no way to repair it

...Unless…

The junkers eyes slowly drifted over to Symmetra’s immaculate work space, everything neatly placed where it belonged and the work space clear of any grime. Hesitantly, he wheeled his chair over to her desk and reached out to one of her drawers, soot from his hands dirtying the handle as he pulled it open. The inside was just a neat as the rest of the Vishkar agent, evening thing laid out in neatly organized containers, nothing out of place. The neatness of everything confused him, what's the point order and tidiness when it’s gonna get messed up anyway? No point in order when everything will just get destroyed. He carefully ran his finger over some pencils that lay in neat rows, the wood rolling under the pads of his fingers as he inspected the draws contents. He shouldn't be looking at her stuff, it was meant to be private, but what other choice did he have? Was he meant to just sit here like a lemon until someone who could go and collect his stuff found him? He didn’t have time for that. Finally he found a small tool box and lifted it out with more care than he treated his own possessions, trying to have as little of his grubby fingers touch the clear plastic case as possible. Symmetra was already going to murder him with her fancy light ‘magic’ for using her stuff without permission and messing with her work space, he may as well try and lessen his inevitable beating by treating her tools with respect. He flipped open the lid with the edge of his finger, picking out a screwdriver with a sleek blue handle and beginning to dismantle his prosthetic, dirty finger marks tainting the clean plastic. The junker made a mental note to clean up for once after he was done. After all, a good team member would take care of their teammates stuff.

With the broken joint finally removed Junkrat began to inspect it, groaning when he saw the damage was worse than he thought. Something like this could take all morning to fix, and since the peg leg had to be his top priority any other plans now had to be on hold.

Brilliant.Fucking, brilliant

The lanky arsonist groaned even more, rubbing his face and leaning back in his chair. If he had to waste time to fix the joint he may as well replace the bolts and nuts on the old thing too. After all it had been almost two years since he'd done a complete and thorough repair and clean up. With the amount of abuse he put the leg though recently, jumping off roofs and other stupid things it wasn't built for, he was surprised the piece of junk hadn't died sooner.

Wheeling over to Torbjörn’s work area he began rummaging through the old Swede's things looking for more tools he needed, this time with none of the care and respect he had treated Symmetra’s stuff with previously. Apart from tinkering and a hatred for omnics there really wasn't much he had in common with the mechanic, and although two were civil to each other he wasn’t really too fond of his gnome-like team mate. Besides, even if he did respect Torbjörn he certainly wasn't scared of him like he was of the sleek Vishkar agent. The small man could barely reach and hit his knees with his little hammer. Grabbing a wrench he rolled back to his own work space and began to unscrew the bolts around the broken hinge, chucking them in a small tub on his desk. When he first arrived Torbjörn had quite harshly told him that any unusable scrap (like broken bolts and screws) needed to be given to him to be melted down. Junkrat didn't question what the small man was going to use the metal for, but it would be an understatement to say he was surprised when he saw the mechanic was drinking it during battle.

With the joint finally free from its casing he could get a closer look. The metal rod had snapped slightly off center and with it broken the rest of the knee mechanism had also failed, stopping the joint from ‘tensing’ and instead just letting it bend completely in on itself whenever he took a step. He could just weld the rod back together and be done with his repairs, but the joint would break again in the same place or somewhere else. As annoying as it was, it would be easier in the long run to just replace the dam thing entirely. With an annoyed sigh he rolled over to where the materials were kept in the workshop, looking for a rod the same thickness as the broken one. Usually he still made his weapons and repaired his prosthetic using junk, but the joints and internal workings of his limbs were a different story. If he used junk for that he'd never not be repairing the devices, so good quality materials were always worth the money. Even if they did cost him an arm and a leg when he was still in the outback. At least here he had all the materials he could ever need for free, and all the tools he could ever need. Well, he did usually if he remembered to bring them with him anyway.

Finally he found what he was looking for and pulled out the new rod, placing it on his lap as he carefully marked the length against the old one and wheeled over to the workshops bandsaw. Using the machine for support he pulled himself up, hopping on his good leg once again as he tried to balance himself ready to cut the metal. He awkwardly put on the face mask that was always left by the contraption with one hand, and flipped down the visor, tuning on the saw and laughing to himself. If Mercy saw him now, leaning precariously close to an extremely sharp spinning blade trying to keep his balance without his prosthetic on, she’d probably have a heart attack.

Shakily he pulled down the blade, tiny bright burning sparks flying from the contact as the spinning saw cut through the thick metal rod like it was made of butter. Usually he’d walk over to the sand belt and smooth off the sharp edges using that since it was a hell of a lot quicker than manually sanding down the metal, but without his leg he really didn’t want to run the risk of faceplanting a fast moving, rough surface. He didn’t have the best looking face as it was, he didn’t need a sandpaper facial as well. Grabbing a piece of the course paper from a draw he sat back on the chair and pushed his way back over to his desk. He began to rhythmically run the paper over the edge of the rod, the rough sand smoothing down the sharp cut edge of the metal. The action was soothing and he could just lose himself to the repetitive motion. Just him alone in the workshop with only his work and no other distractions. He wasn't usually big on silence and calm and quiet, but after the last two weeks it was a welcome break he needed. A simple task he could complete easily enough, but also one that needed the right amount of concentration to stop this mind wandering to things he didn’t want to think about. With the end of the rod now smooth he went back to the joint, quickly smoothing around the edges of the metal casing with the paper to try and clean it up before ferriting through a box of bolts and screws for what he needed to replace the old worn out pieces.

He grabbed what he needed and began to fit the new screws into their holes around the joints casing with the borrowed screwdriver, the handle getting even dirtier with every rotation from his grubby hands. He really had to remember to clean this stuff up later, he couldn’t forget or Metra was gonna kill him. He knew what she was like over her belongings and he almost felt guilty for taking her stuff without asking. Not that he had any way of asking, or that he had any other choice. No tools meant no leg, and having no leg came with a whole bunch of its own problems.The main one being he couldn't walk. Surely that was a good enough excuse, even for a suit like Symmetra.

With the screws in place he carefully inserted the rod into its protective casing and attached the first of the two large bolts either side, tightening it with Torbjörn’s battered old wrench. He tested the joint, holding the unsecured side in place and making sure it wasn't so tight it wouldn't move, before moving on the last bolt. All he needed to do now was fit this last piece and he could go fetch his own stuff, maybe after fine tuning his leg he could spend the afternoon tweaking the prototypes he hadn’t gotten round to yet. He picked up the bolt tossing it between his hands. A little broken leg wasn't going to ruin his day. No way. Grabbing the wrench again he went to secure the last bolt, tying to put it into the hole.

The stupid fucking bolt didn't fucking fit. 

‘Course it didn't fucking fit.

He tried again from a different angle, but the bolt just wouldn't sit right. It would just sit at a stupid, shitty angle and not go in. He tried everything, twisting it, pushing it, even going as far as to hit the annoying thing repeatedly with the end of the wrench before drawing up his good leg and resting his head on the knee. For fucks sake. Why now? Why him? Well it was obvious ‘why him’, some big old fucker in the sky really had it in for him. He wasn't even allowed a good morning with his cocking leg giving up the ghost.

The junker let out a low, angry growl, yanking out the bolt and chucking it across the room. The metal piece bounced of a nearby wall with a ping before landing on the floor. “Stupid fucking useless bolt…”

“I thought throwing objects in the workshop was forbidden.”

Junkrat practically jumped out of his skin, banging his head on his own knee and slowly turning around in the chair to see Symmetra standing in the doorway, arms tightly folded and her mouth pressed into a thin line, the metal bolt at her feet. Ah, great. This was just what he needed. He rubbed his forehead where his knee had made impact with a wince and looked up at her with a sheepish grin “Eh, does the rule still apply when the object is annoying?”

“If that was the case I would be throwing you across the room on a regular basis” She sighed almost as if she was seriously considering the idea. She crouched down and picked up the bolt, looking over at him “What is this?”

“A useless piece of fucking junk that’s what.” he mumbled, turning back to the broken joint on the table and his new problem, clicking his tongue as he tried to think. What the hell was he going to do now? The joints were custom made by himself and he only ever had two spare, and if one of them was broken he was bloody fucked. Cutting a metal rod was one thing, but there was no way in hell he was going to be able to make a whole new joint in this state, and his ridiculous pig of a body guard wasn't here either, so he couldn't even talk him through how to make one.

Symmetra tuned the joint over in her hand before looking over at the complete and utter carnage that was his work space, cocking an eyebrow before getting up and walking over to him with an annoyed expression. “Are those my tools?”

The lanky arsonist looked even more embarrassed “I was gonna clean ‘em after i swear! Ah know what you're like about your things being all neat but it was an emergency! My leg kinda broke.” Her eyes had a look of alarm for a split second before she realized he wasn't talking about his good leg, but his prosthetic that was lying on the desk. Her eyes quickly darted to the stump just below his knee but looked away out of politeness before he could get too red with embarrassment “I would’ve asked, but i couldn't really come and find you.” 

She sighed, massaging her temples before walking back to her desk and wheeling over her chair to sit by him, grabbing a rag on the way. One of the screwdrivers was taken from the desk and she began to clean it, her hands running up and down the handle as she carefully wiped away the dirt.

“What’s the problem with it?” Her voice was a lot softer than he expected it to be. He thought she’d have gone off at him in a fiery rage by now, shouting and lecturing him about going through her drawers, but instead she was just calmly cleaning her equipment and asking him what was wrong.

“I was walking down here and it just broke,” He explained, watching as her slender hands and carefully painted teal nails worked away at the grime and filth he had left behind, “and now this stupid piece of shit wont fit.” He jabbed the bolt that was now resting on the desk, making it wobble a little.

“Can’t you just find another one? I know that Torbjörn has many different bolts and screws.”

“Nope!” The arsonist mumbled, angrily folding his arms with a childish huff “They’re custom made, and i only had the two. Can’t really make more right now either”.

“And Roadhog isn't here? I’m sure he could help you.”

The lanky junker shook his head “No. He’s out on a small errand. Let me here to fend for myself, useless bastard.”

Symmetra sighed and he watched as she put down the cloth and screwdriver, picking the bolt back up again. This time she inspected the details closer, turning it over in her hand and looking at it from different angles. Junkrat couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive with her analyzing his handiwork so closely, her liquid gold eyes scanning every last detail and every last curve and edge of the metal. Then her attention turned to the leg on the table, inspecting the hole where the bolt should be and looking at it closely, her forehead wrinkled with concentration.

“I may be able to assist you. With your permission of course.”

The Junker rubbed the back of his neck and gave her a shrug “I mean sure, I’ll take anything at this point. I just want to get back on my feet.”

With a nod, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before moving her fingers carefully over the palm of her gauntlet, small, shimmering particles of blue light appearing out of nothingness as the arsonist watched in awe. It was just like back in the drop ship, except this time the movements were more calculated and thought out. The motions of her hands were swift and delicate as the light began to shift and change, slowly forming a replica of the bolt. With a quick flick of her wrist she brought it into existence. 

The new piece was a cool, clean and crisp white that had a bluish shine to it under the workshop lights. She picked up the wrench, scrunching up her nose at the dirt and oil that caked it, and gently put the blot in the hole, tightening the joint before passing the wrench back to Junkrat who was still looking at her mesmerized. “I hope it’s satisfactory, but you may want to test it out first. I have not merged hard light with scrap before.” The Vishkar agent gave him a soft smile, cleaning her hands with the rag.

He tore his eyes away from her gauntlet and gave her a lopsided grin back. “Wow,Thanks! That tech of your’s really is something.” Quickly, he reattached the limb and pulled himself up using the table as support. He took a few careful steps, testing the the joint, before slowly walking into the center of the room. “All all good! Metra you’re a lifesaver. I seriously owe you one, anything, anytime.”

She looked at him nervously “That really isn't necessary junkrat-”

“-Sure it is! Junker code! If someone does you a good turn in the outback you do em one back.” he interrupted her grinning, letting out a small cackle as well “Besides, ya never know when you’re gonna need my skills and expertise.”

The architect still didn't look convinced. “I can’t think of a scenario when i would require you help Jamison. You seem to cause more chaos than assistance.”

“Sure you can think of one. In the middle of a battle, Talon wankers on your tail and needing someone to save your arse. Who else appears but your knight in shining armor!” He laughed, jumping up and down in his usual overly hyperactive way.

“If you are ever my ‘knight in shining armor’ then hope is already lost.” She rolled her eyes, but joined his laughing. Her gentle giggling was like a million tiny bells and Junkrat found himself smiling even more as he watched her go back to her own area, pulling out a prototype and getting to work “But if you insist i suppose being owed a favor may come in handy if i do ever need you to ‘save my arse’.”

The junker smirked even more as he bounced over to the workshop door, the stupid smile stuck on his face “Whoa! Language Metra!”

“I was merely quoting what you said. It’s not my fault you language is always foul” She giggled again, giving him another small smile “Now go get your own tools and let me do my work, I'm sure you have things to be getting on with as well”

He nodded, opening the door but stopping and turning to her just as he was about to leave, his voice more serious 

“Seriously Symmetra. Thank you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took 6 weeks to get out! school has been a lot more intense than i realized! But its here, and I'm not planing to abandon this story (Since amazingly i know someone was actually worried about that!). Updates may just take a little more time than i would like, but i don't think i will have this bad a gap between updates again! Anyway i hope you like this chapter and it was worth the wait.

Junkrat groaned, once again rolling over in his bed. His orange tinted sheets wrapped around his body like a snake, trying to choke the life out of him as he dug his nails into the scarred stump where his forearm should have been. Most of the night had been like this, fits and starts of sleep and the worst pain he had ever felt in his right arm. Except he didn’t have a right arm, and that was almost as bad as the constant searing pain that made his face scrunch up and his eyes water.

He rolled over again, burying his face into his pillow with a soft moan and squeezing his eyes shut once more in a vain attempt to sleep. 

It didn’t work.

It was like when he lost it all over again, a ripping burning pain that made the scene play over in his head again and again like a film he couldn't turn away from. A blinding flash and a earsplitting bang. The muffled shout of a long dead companion. The bloody mess of torn and mangled flesh where his arm used to be, scarlet blood and even bone visible in a scene of visceral horror. All fresh in his mind as if the scenario had happened only weeks or months ago. All burnt into his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. It was pathetic really, getting so worked up and in such a mess over a memory. He’d seen similar things happen all the time in the outback to people he almost cared about and people he couldn’t give a shit about so why was this any different? Why the hell could he feel pain in a limb that wasn’t even there? Was it all in his head and was he finally going mad thanks to poison and radiation.

He groaned and rolled over once more, pulling the pillow over his head. Not getting any sleep wasn’t unusual, in fact it was the norm, but most of the time he could at least lie back and relax. Right now he couldn't even do that. The pain in his arm was burning, his head was thumping and all he wanted to do was just sleep for fucks sake. He’d had a good few days too, work on his bombs was going well and his ‘new’ leg was working better than ever with the new hard light bolt glimmering like a jewel whenever it caught the light. The rest of the piece of junk was still covered in dirt, ash and grime from testing various explosives, but he had made sure that the bolt was clean. Metra made it for him, and she liked things to be clean. The least he could do to thank her was treat the bolt like she would...even if the bright white looked odd next to the muted dirty orange.

His thoughts were interrupted by heavy muffled footsteps walking up to the side of his bed and a sudden large hand picking up the pillow covering his face, effortlessly pulling it out of the weak grip of his good fingers.

“Having trouble?”

The junker didn’t need to open his eyes to recognize the low rumbling of his partner in crime's voice. “With what?”

“Sleep.”

Junkrat opened one eye, glaring half heartedly at the large mercenary, his voice was weak but still dripping with sarcasm. “How did you guess?”

“You’re loud. Can’t sleep when you’re rolling around” Junkrat let out a huff. 

“Well sorry if I’m keeping you up.” He groaned, turning away from his friend and looking out of the rooms window, past the sea and to somewhere beyond it, deep in the darkness of the night. Without his mask Hog was a lot easier to understand, but he was still a man of few words and at times like this he was thankful for it, even if it was annoying getting confronted “Just my arm, that's all. The one that ain't there that is.”

“Like in the Outback?”

The junker nodded, rubbing his eyes with his good hand and letting out a long, miserable, yawn. “Won't go away. It just fucking hurts. Cept it shouldn't cause there ain't anything there to hurt.”

Roadhog grunted, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed and making the mattress springs creak under his sudden massive weight. “Try a hot shower. It's meant to help. Then find Mercy” his rough tone, while still deep and menacing, was a little more sympathetic than usual and Jamison couldn't help but narrow his eyes a little at the response.

“How the hell do you know that. Last time I checked you weren't the doctorin' type mate. More the 'man up and get over it' type”

“I’ve been reading.” Was the grunted response.

After slowly running his good hand through his hair, Junkrat sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. What harm would it do really? Worse case scenario nothing would change and he would just have to go back to bed and back to rolling around restlessly. Best case he might finally get some relief. Swinging his leg off the bed he grabbed his prosthetic leg and awkwardly attached it with one hand, too tired and weary to bother with his prosthetic arm. Getting hastily to his feet he went into the bathroom to grab his washbag, caching a glance of himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and bloodshot and his hair was a violent mess of scraggly blond. Any skin visible under a thick layer of grime was paler than usual, making his golden eyes look even brighter and madder.

He’d definitely looked better.

With a sigh he left the bathroom, walking down the dark and empty corridors of the facility toward the showers. In the eerie quiet that came with the middle of the night made clicking sound of his peg leg echo off the wall with every step. The silence wasn't the relaxing sort he appreciated once in awhile, the type that let you calm down and take a second to think, it was the type of terrifying silence that makes your skin crawl and your hair stand on end. It was the type of silence that made you feel like a small child and turned every shadow into a monster.

It was so odd for a place like this to be that quite. Usually there would always be some sort of noise, whether it was the distant sound of his bomb testing, Reinhardt's larger than life laugh or even just the clings and clangs of the buildings pipes there was always something. But even the pipes made no sound.

It unnerved him having the building like this. time in the outback had drilled it into him that silence this suffocating was bad, that it was the calm before the storm. In a place like that, so full of life despite the explosion, if the mutated and deadly critters and birds were quite something was up. It was usually the places closest the to heart of the blast that were like this. Where the radiation was so thick even cockroaches stayed clear and you could almost taste it in the air. He had only been to those places one or twice, covered head to toe in gear nowhere near protective enough in the hope of getting some of the best scrap from the almost untouched area.

He shook his head, trying to just focus on the directions to the showers so he wouldn't get disorientated in the dark. That was then and this was now. He barely needed those survival instincts any more. The building was quiet because everyone was asleep. It wasn't a warning sign. Nothing was going to happen.

Even so, when he got to the showers he found himself giving each stall door a light shove to make sure they were empty. Just in case.

When that was done, he stepped into the stall furthest from the entrance. After removing the last of his clothes he turned on the shower, this time deciding to wait for the water to warm up before getting wet. Steam slowly began to rise around the shower and he sat under the flow of warm water, letting the scolding waterfall cascade over his head and run down over the muscles in his back. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand with a yawn. Even if there was still a stabbing, twisting pain in his arm he could feel his tense muscles finally relaxing. He still couldn't get used to this, knowing he could just turn on a tap and get fresh, clean and warm water. It was just there. He didn't have to find a safe source and heat the water over a fire, all he had to do was just twist a handle. It was mad, and to think some of the people here had never known any different.

Feeling a little more relaxed he grabbed some soap from his wash bag and began to scrub away at the grim that stuck to his body like glue. The dirt reluctantly released it grip on his skin and a steady stream of dirty water and bubbles made its way across the tiled floor and down the drain. When he felt he looked a little more like a human and less like an ash monster, his attention turned to the burning, aching pain in his arm. It still hurt like a bitch, but he would be lying if he said he’d felt no relief. Looks like Hog was right. Again. But recently it felt like there wasn't a time when the bastard was wrong. Grabbing more soap he began to lowly massage his fingers over the stump, trying to work away a little more of the pain with the gentle movement.

It wasn’t like this hadn't happened before. Ever since he had lost the dam thing he periodically got the horrible twisting pain, but never this bad. Maybe it was stress. Sure back in the outback life was stressful but he was used to it, he had to be used to it or he wouldn’t have survived. But now he had bounty all over the world, was part of an illegal organisation and was risking his life almost everyday.

It wasn't exactly easy living.

Slowly, Junkrat ran his good hand through his now wet hair once again, turning around and switching the shower off. The steady flow of water slowed down until it was just a few odd drips. Guess he just had to go find Mercy. Not that he really wanted too, he’d bothered the medic far too many times already with stupid problems she shouldn't have to deal with, but the pain was driving him fucking mad. Reluctantly reached his peg leg and reattached the junk before getting dressed. He was too tired and depressed to dry off, and fabric of his shorts stuck awkwardly to his legs as he slumped out of the washrooms. His cold, wet, hair stuck uncomfortably to the back of his neck making him even more miserable as he returned to the dark corridors. He knew the way to the clinic off by heart now, hell, he could probably go there in his sleep. Every twist and turn was engraved into his mind so precisely he could walk there without much thought and he was thankful for it. It had to be at least three in the morning at this point and he just wanted to lie back, shut his eyes and relax.

His sulking and robotic walking was suddenly interrupted by the thump of him walking into something and a small yelp. 

Not something, someone.

He looked down and could just about make out the figure of a woman lit up by the bright blue screen of a phone that had also fallen to the floor. Who the hell was up and walking about at this time of night? It couldn’t be Mercy or Tracer, the former spent the whole night at the clinic or in her room unless she was needed, and once Lena was asleep even the end of the world couldn't wake her. It wasn't Mei as she was too short and would have yelled at him as soon as he had bumped into her. For a second his tired and muddled mind thought it was Metra, but it couldn't be. This woman, well she looked more like a girl, was shorter than Symmetra and looked younger too. Her hair was short and brown and her skin was a soft peach with little pink ‘whiskers’ drawn on her cheeks, unlike Symm’s long silky black hair and pretty chocolate colored skin.

After a few more awkward seconds of staring at her confused he remembered his manners and offered her a hand, helping her to her feet before reaching down for her phone and passing it to her.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled sheepishly “I wasn’t really looking where i was going.”

The girl laughed, waving him away with her hand “It’s fine, i wasn't really looking either!”

Junkrat felt himself smile a little, her tone was bubbly and cheery despite the early hour and it was rubbing off on him a little. But still. He’d never seen this girl before. “Who are you?”

“Oh! I’m a new recruit! I just got here a few hours ago.” She stuck her hand back out towards him with a cheery grin “I’m D.va, or Hanna, that’s my real name.” She paused for a moment, almost as if she was expecting some sort of reaction from him when she mentioned her name, and smiled even more when she didn’t get it.”I’m guessing that monkey guy will introduce me properly tomorrow.”

“Hu, well, um, I hope you enjoy yourself here…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and cringing at his own words “Sorry, I’m really tired right now. I’m probably the last person ya wanna bump into.”

“I’m surprised i even bumped into anyone, it’s so late! But i guess i kinda expected a place like this to still be buzzing with life even at this time.”

Junkrat found himself letting out a small laugh “Ye, apparently being a hero takes a lot outta ya. Some of the folks here would sleep through the apocalypse, especialy after some missions.”

“Oh! That’s good.” Her face lit up excitedly, “So a little midnight gaming won’t wake them then?”

“...Gaming? What’s that?” Hanna’s mouth nearly fell open, and for a second Junkrat was worried he’d already managed to offend the new recruit after only a few minutes. That had to be a new record even for him.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT GAMING IS?!” The small girl whisper shouted at him with a hint of excitement. “Ya know, video games?!”

He shook his head “I mean i think I’ve heard of them, don’t think I’ve played one.”

“Duuuuuuude! We need to play some at some point! Call it team building or whatever but if someone has never played video games then it’s my duty to show them!”

Junkrat found himself smiling even more at her request. For the first time in, well, his whole life, someone actually wanted to spend time with him. Not because he was paying them, or because they had to. Or even because they felt sorry for him. They just genuinely wanted to! And he’d only known the girl a few minutes! Sure as soon as she learnt about him and the things he had done she probably would want nothing to do with him, but for now he couldn't keep the foolish grin off his face at the thought of someone wanting him around. “That would be pretty cool.”

She clapped her hands together excitedly “Brilliant! Well, I better let you get off to sleep dude. I better sleep too, may help with the jet lag.” She paused for a second, thinking “Wait a second! I don’t think you told me your name?”

“Oh!,” He hesitated a moment, worried that if he told her she would recognize his name for a wanted poster. “ It Junkrat.”

“Junkrat?” He braced himself for her to leave him or say she recognized him but instead she just let out a small giggle. “That’s such a cool name! Well i guess I’ll see you around Rat! We need to have the gaming session and all!” After giving him one last wave she turned around and walked off, back down the dark corridor until she turned a corner and he lost sight of her phones blue glow.

It wasn't until after she was gone that he noticed the muted pain in his arm. All the time he had been talking to the girl the pain in his arm had all but disappeared and was only just returning the more he thought about it. The short conversation hadn't just lifted his spirits, it had also helped give him a small amount of relief, and god was he grateful.

A few seconds of walking later and the clean white doors of the clinic finally came into view. He stood outside for a second, hesitating once more. Was this really bad enough to wake up Mercy? He was still mad at hog for waking her up to deal with him last time and he didn’t want to be disturbing her again so soon. It wasn’t fair one her. She was so nice to him but she wasn’t his mother. Maybe he should just turn round and go back to bed, toss around a little and find her in the morning. She needed sleep too.

“Ah! Jamison! Were you looking for me?” Junkrat was just about to turn back to his room when he heard the medic's voice just behind him, making him jump a little.

“Um, er yes.. I mean if you’re not busy I am…” He mumbled shoving his hand in his pocket like a little kid and rocking on his heels anxiously.

“Of course I’m not.” Mercy smiled at him, pulling a key out of her pocket and unlocking the clinic with a soft click and slowly pushing the door open for him to follower her in. He did, and sat down awkwardly in one of the chairs in the room and she sat at her desk. “So, what’s the matter?”

“Just my arm….the one that isn’t there...it’s killing me.” He mumbled embarrassed “I know it’s stupid and I’m probably making things up, but it’s worse than I’ve had it in the past and i just can’t sleep.”

“Ah. Phantom pain?”

He nodded “That sounds about right. Feels like my arms there just as a sort of ghost”

“It’s a lot more common than you may think, and it’s definitely not stupid Jamison.” The doctor reassured comfortingly “You see, although the limb is no longer there, the nerve endings at the site of the amputation continue to send pain signals to the brain. So it is quite like a ghost”

Junkrat looked up at her surprised “You mean I’m not making a big deal out of nothing? I’m not mad?”

“Definitely not! The pain can be mild or extreme and it’s just as real as if your other arm was hurting. You wouldn't feel stupid for coming to me about that would you?”

“I guess not…”

She looked him in the eyes, her tone still soft but suddenly serious “You really need to feel you can come and talk to me about these things Jamison, especially now. I’m your doctor, and I would hope you can trust me. If you ever think anything is serious enough to come to me over it’s not stupid, and i would rather you came to me when nothing was wrong than you be ill and not come to me.” She stopped to make sure he was listening. “Do you understand?”

He nodded slowly, “So I’m not bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She let out a small laugh “Back in the old days there was a huge hypochondriac on the team, it felt like they were in my office every five minutes telling me they had some rare disease they found on the internet. Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone can be as bad as them” Junkrat let himself force a small smile at the anecdote. Mercys words had made him feel a little better. He still felt like he was wasting her time but at least he wasn’t in her office every five minutes, and he had a fairly valid reason for being there in the first place. And besides, he had bigger things to worry about right now and it was better to be safe than sorry. “If you want some relief for your pain i could give you some painkillers, some sleeping medication too if you want, it should help until it subsides.”

“If that would help...”

“It should.” she smiled, writing something down on a piece of paper before getting up and going to the medicine cabinet on the other side of the room, unlocking the cupboard filled with a rainbow of drugs and remedies. She carefully picked up two bottles, taking a single pill from one and two from another and putting them in funny paper cups. She filled a plastic cup with water and walked back over to him, handing him the water and the two pills first. “Take these to help with the pain, and take this when you get back to your room. If the pain continues or you have more trouble sleeping i can write you a regular prescription”

He carefully took the cup, popping both of the first pills in his mouth and washing them down with the water before grabbing the small paper cup and getting to his feet. “Got it. Thanks doc.”

“Your welcome.” She smiled as he walked towards the door, “And remember to come back to me if you have any issues.”

He nodded, leaving the clinic and heading back towards his own room. When he got there he sat on the bed and took the last pill before lying down, pulling the sheets over him and trying to get comfortable.

After a few minutes the drugs kicked in and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the war, and hell was it a battle.
> 
> I've been to Iceland, revised for my mock exams, DONE my mock exams and celebrated Christmas and the new year since the last chapter.
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long (3 months i think D:), life and writers block have caused me hell, but no matter what this fic isn't being abandoned so don't worry! I hope the chapter was worth the wait, and i have some nice things planed for symmrat week too ;)

“So I guess that's it really! I'm looking forward to working with all of you!” Hana smiled finishing her speech and making her back to her seat. She was sat beside Junkrat and Roadhog, something that had surprised everyone at the start of the briefing especially the lanky junker himself. When Junkrat had asked her why she was sitting next to him, she had just shrugged and grinned, saying he was the only person she knew and he seemed nice.

 

He had learnt a little more about Hana from the brief. She was 19 years old, but despite her age she was already fighting in the South Korean army against a large omic that terrorised her home. He’d considered that fairly normal until she had gone on to say how she was a ‘pro StarCraft player’ (and upcoming movie star) who, like many other korean ‘professional gamers’, had been selected to pilot a mech due to her fast reflexes.

 

Even after the best nights sleep he’d had in ages, he was still tired from the night before. Although not a shattered as he could have been if Mercy hadn’t helped him. When he had woken up to hog shouting at him to ‘get of his lazy arse’ the searing pain had dulled down to a far more manageable dull ache, and for once he even felt slightly refreshed. Slightly.

 

Winston had started off on a long and boring drawl about the next mission , and Junkrat felt his attention slipping away from the large monkey as he began to look around the room. If there was one thing he hated more than anything working here, it was the dam briefs. Sure, organisation was ‘key for a mission’ and all that shit, but fucking hell it was boring and he struggled to remember most of what was actually said when the mission finally came around sometimes a week or so later. It just seemed pointless really, especially since they always seemed to have 'update brief’ the day or night before. He wouldn't be surprised if the meetings were only for appearances, to give the team a sense of organization and unity. It would be just as easy to give a brief in the common room, but the room with a big table and lots of chairs made the whole thing feel very professional and suit-ish. If that was the reason for doing the long, boring sessions then maybe they weren't that bad in the long run. But it didn't mean they were any more enjoyable.

 

As his eyes darted around the room uninterested in the specifics of the next mission and any plans that didn't involve him, he noticed something, or rather the lack of something; He couldn't see Symmetra anywhere. It was unlike her to be late for a brief, or even not the first person there, and the fact she wasn't there at all strangely and annoyingly worried him. It wasn't like it really affected the mission whether she was here or not right this second, she would still get all the information she needed from Winston anyway sooner or later and that's all he should care about. But with her need for order and organisation and rules it was uncomfortably uncharacteristic. He didn't know why, but he couldn't help but be concerned about what could be up with her. The woman lived and breathed business and schedules, so missing something like this was a big deal. It just didn't sit right with him.

 

Roadhog seemed to notice something was up, and elbowed him roughly in the side breaking him out of his thoughts. “Whats up?”

 

“Symm ain’t here,” he mumbled only partially paying attention to his large friend and having another look around the room incase he had somehow missed her. “And you know what suits are like, they dont miss shit like this.”

 

“So you're worried?” The large junker huffed, sounding unimpressed.

 

“What? No, why would I be worried about a suit? Just being nosey that's all” The lanky junker shrugged almost sheepishly, sliding back in his chair and not fooling his bodyguard with his bluff.

 

Roadhog gave him long stare before turning his own attention back to the meeting, while Junkrat went back to twiddling his thumbs and picking the paint on his prosthetic hand, scowling at the flaky orange acrylic like a small child. Why was he concerned? It wasn't like he didn't have his own bigger problems to worry about (not that he wanted to think about that too long) and apart from Mercy he still didn't trust, or even like, most of the team enough to to worry about silly stuff like this.

 

So why was Symmetra different?

 

She hadn't exactly been nice to him during his time at overwatch so far, calling him a savage was probably best example of this, but at the same time she had helped him out with his leg when he needed it most. Hell, he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact she didn't want anything in return for the beautifully crafted bolt that now shimmered with every step he took.  Back home no one did anything for anyone out of the goodness of their heart, ‘cept the occasional kind soul who would help out the ragged children that lived almost in packs in the town. If someone did you a 'good turn’, you had to pay em back one way or another if you didn't want a knife in your back.

 

He thought suits would be the same, just as evil but with less actual stabbing, and his and Hog’s experience in Sydney seemed to confirm that. But despite her stuck up nature, for some reason Symm didn't seem like the suits he had met in the past. Even her calling him a savage, while extremely harsh and fucking rude, was somewhat (annoyingly) understandable. Even Mercy who was arguably the kindest and most understanding member of the recall team, gave the two junkers a strange look when they first arrived at the watchpoint covered in weeks worth of soot and grime and with enough firepower between them for a small army. With shit like that he couldn't really blame her. Symm had probably known luxury her whole life, or the very least the things he considered luxury; Hot food, running water a nice clean bed you can feel safe in at the end of the day. People seemed to forget that he sometimes found ‘civilized’ folks as strange as they found him.

 

Maybe it was just because he had spent so much time around her. Long silent hours sitting in the workshop together may have made him learn more about other people than he realised. He’d never been good in social situations. Not as a kid, not as lanky, pesky, teen and especially not as an adult. Sharing the workshop with two cranky builders really forced him to learn when to stop. If one of them snapped at him the whole mood of the workshop changed to something a lot more sour and uncomfortable, so he had started to try and find ways to keep his energy under control. Humming had gotten annoying fast, and so had tapping the table while he was thinking, so he had begun to bounce his leg a lot more frequently than normal. It helped, but wasn't very satisfying.

 

A large hand clamped own on his shoulder scaring the shit out of him, shaking him out of his thoughts and making him almost fall out of his chair. His reaction was met with a bubbly giggle from next to him, which was surprisingly joined by a hoarse, throaty laugh from his other side. He saw mercy walking away from near them and narrowed his eyes at Roadhog. The two better not have been speaking about more shit behind his back.

 

“Lost in ya own little world Ratboy?” Hana playfully teased, still bent over laughing and oblivious to his glare “Come on, brief is over, it’s time for breakfast and I’m starving!”

Junkrat opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again and gave her a puzzled look, his attention taken away from whatever Mercy and Roadhog were talking about“Ratboy?”

 

“Yes! It’s your new nickname!”

 

“What, like old pig face over here?”

 

She winced rubbing the back of her head with a wary smile. “...That seems more like an insult to me…” He could tell by the look on her face that while she may have been open to him, Roadhog was still rather intimidating. He didn’t blame her. The guy was huge, carried around a hook almost as big as her and had a pig mask covering his face.

 

He wasn't really a vision of comfort.

 

“Nah, You don’t mind, do you Hog?” He cupped a hand around the side of his mouth and turned to her with a mock whisper that realy wasn’t much quieter than his actual whisper “He’s a big softie really, not as big and scary when he’s knitting by the fire.”

 

The large junker let out an angry snort and just glared from behind his mask at his boss who completely ignored the lingering stare, making Hana burst into another fit of laughter while Junkrat stood with a silly lopsided grin plastered on his face. He always loved it when he managed to make people laugh. It brought back foggy, but good, memories of his old life. Of his mother, with her soft face and kind eyes that crinkled when she laughed at his silly antics. With some of the memories he had of his old life he couldn't tell whether they were real, or just remnants of nights spent wishing to be normal as a kid. But these memories were different. They were just so real they had to be true.

 

He nearly fell off his pegleg when Hana suddenly grabbed his wrist and began to pull him towards the mess hall and away from his thoughts, starling him for a second time.

 

“Come on! I haven't eaten since i got here last night, I’ll just eat you if you don’t hurry up.”

 

He was pretty hungry for once, and his appetite was coming back. Maybe breakfast was a good idea after all.

 

 

* * *

 

Symmetra looked as battered and ragged as she felt. Her hair was was a frizzy and slightly matted mess, and she had no energy to do her makeup, making the dark marks under her eyes very noticeable. She was absolutely exhausted. All through the night she had been suffering from a phantom pain that smothered the end of her arm. It had kept her awake most of the night rolling uncomfortably in her bed. She had even tried to get up and use the time wisely by working, and although it had managed to distract her from the pain in her arm it had meant she never got round to sleeping, until about five in the morning when she passed out on her desk, her head using the pile of papers in front of her as a pillow. Dropping off so late meant that she completely and hopelessly overslept. Her alarm had broken meaning she had woken up at ten, a time that would be severely punished back at Vishkar. What made it even worse was the amount of missed calls on her phone from Lena. There had been a breif she had missed, and she was mortified.

 

After throwing on her uniform in a mad hurry, with only just enough time to make sure it looked presentable, she dashed as fast as she could down to the mess hall where breakfast was unfortunately in full swing. She got a bowl of plain cereal, not wanting to make her lateness any more obvious, and sat down by Mei who was busy talking to Angela **.** As much as she preferred privacy and keeping to herself, she always felt a lot more comfortable in a social situation if she was next to someone she knew, sitting quite happily on the sidelines. She was fine to just sit in silence as the two women talked about the meeting she had missed. That was another thing she would have gotten in a lot of trouble for back at vishkar. Missing a meeting, even a small, insignificant one, would often result in disciplinary action. She would have to try and remember to apologize dearly to Winston for her absence. The gorilla was not as harsh as her superiors back at vishkar, but he still may be annoyed at her for missing what sounded extremely important. 

 

She let out a small sigh and tried to rub more sleep out of her eyes and clear the cobwebs from her brain, focusing on the cereal in front of her. It was bland and boring. She had forgotten to add any fruit or even sugar and the cornflakes were slowly melting into a horrible mushy mass the longer she left them. Her weary attention drifted to her prosthetic arm with its sleek white design and complex parts. She was lucky it was semi-permanently attached to her or she would have forgotten it in her rush to get ready. It had been created to be as comfortable as possible, with synthetic nerves so delicate that she would sometimes forget that it wasn't real. Of course, not being able to remove her arm without specialist tools did have some down sides (she could remember numerous times where she had been harshly woken in the middle of the night by cold metal pressed against her cheek), but even with the few set backs she would take Vishkar’s technology over a primitive prosthetic like Junkrat’s anyday.

 

Not that his prosthetic didn't impress her, quite the opposite, it almost infuriated her how he could create not just his arm but also his leg from only scrap and odd tools. It seemed like he could just pick up any scrap and make it into an invention, bomb or some other piece of equipment; His talent was completely his own and he was extremely talented. It had been on her mind ever since she had looked at his notebook. The mad chaos of his creatively allowed him to do things and come up with ideas that, in her mind, should not be possible with just old parts. He could make an old tire and a car engine into an annoyingly efficient weapon. No matter what she did she knew part of her skills were due to the technology she had in her hand, any idea she had relied on Vishkar to become a reality. Her blessing was also her curse in a way. If she wanted to create something, she was bound almost completely by the limits of hard light technology. Without them what was she? The little girl picking tourists pockets in the slums of India? The thought disgusted her. That life was long gone and she didn't need think about it. She was a civilised business woman at the top of a respectable company. She wasn't a criminal like the Junkers.

 

Thinking of the two mad australians she looked up from her disappointing breakfast and over to where they were sitting. They were at their usual seat right at the back of the large mess hall and as far from zenyatta and genji as they could get, preferring to keep their distance from anyone else in general. It was such an odd group. A lanky arsonist with flaming hair, a larger than life man in a leather pig mask and a small korean girl…

 

Wait what?

 

She suddenly snapped out of her sleepy state and her eyes locked onto the girl with a bewildered expression on her face. Who the heck was that? Something about her did seem mildly familiar, like they may have met at a gala or passed in the street, but she defiantly hadn’t seen her here before. Mei seemed to notice her confusion and gave her a light tap on the shoulder, getting her attention.

 

“You’ve finally noticed the new recruit then.” She smiled with a slight laugh “She’s called Hana Song, she introduced herself in the briefing this morning.” the scientist took a small bite of her pancake before continuing “Where were you this morning anyway?”

 

Symmetra absentmindedly moved her fingers over to where her prosthetic conecte to her arm, stroking the divide between smother metal and warm skin and remembering the pain that still lingered. Even though most of it had dissipated there was still a small twinge of ache left there from the night before. “I was doing some late night work and simply lost track of the time. My alarm breaking did not help and it seemed i missed quite a few calls from Lena aswell.” she paused, messing nervously with the complex panels “ Do you think winston will be disappointed? It was very unprofessional of me to miss a meeting this important.”

 

Mercy gave her a soft and reassuring smile “Well he may be a little grumpy, but he always has been when he’s stressed. He won't be too fussed as long as you go to him and get what you need on the mission.” She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and looked over to where Hana was sitting “You may want to introduce yourself too. I think you and Hana will get along quite well”

 

She gave them both a nod, making the decision to abandon her disappointing breakfast. It was barely touched anyway, and she wasn't really that hungry. She got up out of her seat and walked over to the table were the odd group was sitting, trying to avoid looking at a Junkrat who was looking more excitable the closer she got. With the way he was rapidly jiggling his leg she was sure he would fly out of his seat like some bizarre cartoon character any minute.

 

“Ay! Metra! You’r looking lovely this morning!” With his comment she remembered how much of a mess she must have looked and was about to give him a glare when she realised how genuine his smile and comment was. Instead of trying to be sarcastic it seemed like he was trying to be genuinely kind to her. Sure, it was probably because he noticed how much of a state she looked, but he wasn't taking it as an opportunity for a joke at her expense. And she was oddly grateful.

 

“Good morning, I heard we had a new member to our team. Sorry i missed the meeting this morning, I overslept.” She turned to Hana and held out her hand “I’m am Satya Vaswani, it’s a pleasure to be working with you in the near future”

 

The young woman seemed a little taken back at the formality but quickly took her and and shook it enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet you too! I'm Hana Song!”

 

“She is amazing Metra!” Junkrat piped up, barely audible with most of a pancake shoved in his mouth, sticky syrup running down his chin. “She's a mecka pilot, movie star and a professional gamer.” She couldn’t help but cringe when he used the back of his hand to wipe the golden mess away. It was taking every fiber of her being not to lean over the table with a napkin and sort the issue out properly.

 

She turned her attention back to Hana, trying to ignore the walking disaster. “You play videogames for a living? That's….interesting” she noticed Hana's smile faltered a little and felt a slight twinge of guilt “It must be fun doing something you love as a job.”

 

“Oh its awesome! Fighting in my mech can be fun too, but also scary, you never know when people are going to get hurt. But sometimes that’s what it takes to make things safer.”

 

Her words struck symmetra a little.  _ ‘you never know when people are going to get hurt. But sometimes that’s what it takes to make things safer’ _

 

Those words she had heard many times from Sanjay in one form or another when talking about what had happened in Rio de Janeiro. He told her the lives that had been lost and ruined there were, while sad, necessary sacrifices for them to bring order to the slums. He had to be telling the truth, but since they had been driven out of the city the citizens seemed to be getting on alright by themselves. Had they done the right thing by interfering? So many people had got hurt but things were just as they were before. If they hadn't have gotten involved maybe that little girl wouldn't have been scarred for life. The thought made it feel like someone was twisting a knife in her stomach.

 

Roadhog almost seemed to notice her being uncomfortable and tried to change the subject “Where were you?” He grumbled, lifting his mask just enough to take a sip of tea from a small cup.

 

“When?”

 

Junkrat grinned “This morning, for the meeting, ain’t like you to be late.”

 

She sighed, smoothing some hair away from her face and sitting down at the table. She folded her hands neatly in her lap “I couldn't sleep, so i worked all night. Unfortunately I fell asleep and my alarm didn't go off.” She was still embarrassed about her lateness, and really didn’t want to be talking about it, but it was better than letting her mind wander.

 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

 

This time Symmetra did give the hyperactive jester an annoyed scowl, he had such an unprofessional attitude it wound her up. “Why are you so nosey?”

 

“Just part of my charming personality, that’s all” He shrugged cheekily, making Hana laugh. “And you say I need to be more of a team player! Im being  _ caring _ .” he had a look on his face that reminded Symmetra of the Chesire Cat and the last word was drawn out, highlighting his accent in a long drawl.

 

“Well it’s not that charming, it’s infuriating. I had phantom pain in my arm if you must know. I was a wake, so i made use of my time and dealt with some my work.” 

 

At the mention of the phantom pain Junkrat’s eyes lit up.” You got that too? Kinda creepy.” He noticed her confused expression and let out a mad laugh, stuffing another whole pancake into his mouth. “I got that shit too last night, was a pain in the ass. Went to mercy and she sorted me right out. You should go to her in the future, make sure you don't miss any more meetings”

 

“Maybe that would have been best, but it was a blessing in disguise. I had a lot of work to catch up on and most of it is now finished.” She hoped her answer would be sufficient enough and turned to Hana in an attempt to change the subject. “So, why do you want to join the recall. I hope it’s not offending to say you look too young to have been on the original team. Surely being a celebrity would be safer than this.”

 

Hana paused for a second, surprised by the sudden change. “Well, I guess I just want to help yaknow? Stop all the bad stuff that's happening.” Her eyes seemed to look a little sadder “There's already an omic still destroying my home, and things in Russia aren't looking too good. The future isn't looking to good in general right now, maybe we can change that.”

 

The mention of omnics seemed spark emotion in the junkers as well. Anger.

 

“Ye, its the stupids bots fault. The whole world is falling apart because of them. They should go back to the scrap heap!” Junkrat raised his voice for the last part, obviously trying to get the attention of the student master duo on the other side of the hall. Genji seemed ready to walk over and confront him but was stopped by his master while the lanky junker giggled manically, earning a harsh shove from his bodyguard. “What!”

 

“Knock it off.” The larger junker grumbled while Junkrat was left furiously rubbing away the pain in his arm. “You wouldn't last in a fight with him.”

 

“Bet i would.” He grumbled annoyed, his ego as hurt as his arm “And anyway thats a silly question, we’re all here for the same reason. Fighting the good fight.”

 

Symmetra rolled her eyes at his comment, trying not to laugh “I thought you and Roadhog were hired mercenaries here for the money.”

 

The lanky jester put his hand to his heart in mock offence, letting out a small gasp. “Excuse you. I am here for the greater good and nothing more. Although the money is a good perk. I’m a freedom fighter, a misunderstood one, but a freedomfighter nonetheless.”

 

Hana let out a laugh and she couldn’t help but join her, “Criminal, thief and arsonist you mean.” But even as she said the words she knew they weren’t one hundred percent true. He was definitely a criminal and an annoyance, but he also seemed to have many tricks and talents hidden away. She couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets the junker had.Maybe the bomb crazy maniac actually was a freedom fighter after all. After all, they did know the job they were walking into. So did she. But was she here of her own will like them, or just because Vishkar needed to keep an eye on their funds.

  
Was she really here to make the world a better place? Or was she just a ‘suit’ sitting on the sidelines? The thought of not knowing the answer scared her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long, and sorry its so short! I just wanted to do a small update to get myself back into the story. Life has been pretty crazy recently so thanks for all the lovely comments, I now think I'm back in a place where i can start writing regularly again!

Another knife sailed through the air, slicing easily into the thin paper that had been pinned on the dartboard on the other side of the room. Winston's cheery face smiled back, knives ranging from butter knives to a large meat cleaver scavenged from the kitchen sticking out of the photos eyes, nose and various other features. Junkrat reached to the side of him and picked up another blade. To say he was pissed off at the large primate would be an understatement. He was furious. He was lying alone in his room with a drip once again attached to his arm while the team had gone out on a mission leaving him all alone.

If he was completely honest he wasn’t surprised. He knew that his previous mission was probably his last for quite a while, and that another 3 days of hell had been looming on the horizon, but he couldn't help but feel cast aside. He’d tried to convince Hog or even Mercy to at least stay with him so his boredom wouldn’t drive him more insane than last time. He tried pleading, threatening and even begging, but the fat ball of fluff had firmly stated that due to the status of the mission (and the status of the company behind it meaning possible future funding) everyone had to go. 

Well, everyone except him. Obviously.

He tried to convince himself that the mission sounded extremely boring anyway, just sitting and guarding something in an Egyptian museum. But he couldn’t help but feel it also seemed like an annoyingly good opportunity for some thieving and and general snooping about.

He’d also assumed that the doctor had now told Winston about his condition, if the sympathetic looks he had recently gotten from the ape were anything to go by. He wished that he could just ignore it and get on with his life, but having someone else know-who wasn’t Roady or Mercy-felt wrong. He'd talked to Hog about it during the week when the old mercenary had been in a fairly good mood in an attempt to get it off his chest. His large friend had told him that even if no one else at the watch point ever found out, since Winston was 'The Boss’ he had to know. If he didn't, he could end up assigning him to risky positions on missions, possibly putting the Junker, and the others, in danger.

So he was left bored out of his mind locked in his room with only Athena for company. She was better than nothing,he had to admit, although the disembodied voice of a bot being the only other thing in the large facility in the event of an attack made him slightly uncomfortable. 

That and the fact that Doctor Ziegler and Winston had had instructed Athena to lock the door (and windows) in his room in order to prevent another...escape. 

He stretched out on his bed with an annoyed sigh, arching his back and letting out a yawn “Athena?”

It didn't take long for the female voice to reply 

“Yes Mr Junkrat?” He always got a chuckle out of how stupid ‘Mr Junkrat’ sounded, but he sure as hell wasn't going to give a bot his real name (although he was sure that the computer could easily find it if she wanted to, after all his wanted posters were surly plastered all over the internet and he vaguely remembered filling it in on the mountains of paperwork Winston got him to fill out when he was first hired).

“Can you let me out?”

“I’m afraid I cannot. My instructions from winston were very clear, do not let Junkrat out of his room under any circumstances.”

Jamison groaned, angrily glaring at the ceiling “So, If there's a fire, or if Talon descend on the watchpoint like angry feral Dingos on a fresh corpse, I'm meant to just sit here like a melon?”

“That’s an obvious exception. In the case of an emergency the locks will be disabled and you will be encouraged to find safety.”

His frown twisted into a devilish grin. So he would be free in an emergency ay? All he’d need was a smoke bomb and a detonator. Or a lighter…

“Any attempts to deliberately set off the alarms will be met with severe punishment and possible discharge from the watchpoint or Overwatch as a whole.” Junkrat jumped as the female voice seemed to almost read his thoughts.

“Aww, fuck off! You’re no fun Athena” he whined, stretching back out on his bed with a huff

“My job is to protect Overwatches Agents, not to be ‘fun’.”

The AI had a point. A really annoying one, but a point. Freedom really wasn't worth the risk of getting kicked out of Overwatch either. Where else would he find free food, water and some pretty nice people who had his back? Not in the outback that’s for sure, and on the streets he was still a ‘wanted man’ with police breathing down his neck constantly.

With his escape plan thwarted before it even began he was back to being bored out of his mind. He tried to entertain himself with the handheld ‘gaming’...thing….that Hana had lent him, but quickly got bored with all the games he had available. The girl was such a high level on them all that without knowing how to play he quickly became frustrated with dying over and over again, and he didn’t dare restart them and face Hana’s wrath.

His gaze drifted around the room before it landed on Symm’s broken alarm clock. He’d offered to have a look at it for her, insisting that since she helped him fix his leg it was the least he could do. She’d told him it would be easier to buy a new one, but gave it to him anyway, saying he could keep it for scraps if he couldn't fix it. Even that small gesture made him smile.

It was an old style, one that wound up at the back, and he was excited to open it up and to see how it ticked. He grabbed a screwdriver and undid the screws on the back, eagerly inspecting the gears and small, intricate parts. The more he thought about it the more he realised how much the clock suited the orderly woman's personality. All the parts were extremely delicate and fragile, placed together in just the right way. It was easy to ‘wind up’, but the end product worked perfectly and smoothly for the task it was made for, every piece had its place and worked in perfectly. And when it was put together it was quite beautiful.

He stopped, putting down the screwdriver and the cog he was messing with. Where the hell did that thought come from? Of Course he knew Symm was attractive, he couldn't deny that. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders perfectly, and her eyes sparkled like liquid gold under the workshop lights, but he wouldn't have normally called her beautiful.

Would he?

He tried to shake the thought out of his head and go back to work on the clock, but it remained nagging in the back of his mind.

He didn’t like Symmetra...did he?

He saw her as a friend, obviously, but as more? He’d really began to love just sitting in the workshop with her, just the two of them focusing on their own projects. It was nice just being around her. But he still didn’t know if she even liked being around him. Sometimes it would be just like they were best buds, but then other times he felt that she just saw him as some filthy savage.

He let out a sigh, going back to the clock. Even if he did like her, she probably wouldn't like dirty junker like him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really enjoying being able to write symmrat again, and I'm finally trying to move the plot on a little XD Hope you all enjoy this chapter! (and sorry its short again!)

“You want us to do _what_?”

 

Junkrat looked over to Symmetra, who looked equally puzzled, before turning back to the ape in front of him, completely confused about what he'd just been told.

 

Winston sighed and adjusted his large glasses, which had begun to slip down his nose. “I want you both to do some intelligence work for me. We have reason to believe that Talon is operating around Paris, but we’re not sure enough to send in the whole team for a full-on assault mission.”

 

“I don’t know if you’ve seen what I do mate, but covert operations are not really my thing. I’m not the most stealthy bloke around.”

 

Winston shot the Junker a unimpressed glare. “I know that,” He growled, lowering his voice so that Symmetra couldn’t hear what he was saying, “But this is the only type of mission Angela will let me give you right now. And you’re going stir crazy, which is currently driving _me_ , as well as half the team, mad. You need some time off the Watchpoint to let off some steam.”

 

The monkey had a point. After he was left alone and locked in his room while the others went on a mission last week he had become more and more….well, annoying, setting off new bombs late at night and badgering anyone at the watchpoint for things to do. Even Hana was starting to get a little pissed with him. His constant nattering was interrupting almost all her gaming, and she had to remind him that this was actually part of her job.

 

He hadn’t even been able to get down to the beach or the market town. Roady’s bike was being repaired and he couldn’t drive any of the cars around the base. Getting out of the Watchpoint would probably do him some good.

 

“Okay, I get ya point.” He huffed childishly, leaning back in his chair so that the front two feet were in the air. “Soooo, What is it exactly we’ll be doing?”

 

Winston looked down at the papers in front of him “Well you’ll be put up in a hotel where we think that some Talon members may also be staying. You’ll be undercover of course so don’t worry about being recognised.” He glanced up at Junkrat to make sure he was still listening before he continued. “You’ll be registered at the hotel as a young couple on holiday and-”

 

It was Symmetra’s turn interrupt the monkey before he could finish, “Why? Couldn't we just go as friends?” Junkrat couldn’t help but feel a little offended at her comment, but Winston continued before he could voice it.

 

“Going as a couple reduces the chances of you getting recognised as individuals. It’s another layer of your disguise.”

 

“But I may still be recognised, I am one of the most famous hard light architects in the world, can no one else go?” Symmetra interrupted again, making the Junker next to her frown.

 

The large ape let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead “No, they can’t. Hana is too well known as a celebrity and both Lena and Angela were well known Overwatch agents in the past. I did ask Mei, but she threatened to turn me into a fur rug if I made her go.”

 

“And I won’t?”

 

The lanky Junker huffed angrily, picking at the flaky paint on his arm. “If she doesn’t want to go with me then why can’t Roady just come?” He couldn't help but feel unusually hurt Satya’s attitude. Sure he wasn't the best looking or the most desirable bloke on the planet, he could live with that, but could she really not bear even a few days pretending to date him?

 

“You and Roadhog are known as a criminal duo, and together you’d stand out more than I would. Two very recognisable Junkers hanging out around a hotel would probably result in a lot of calls to the police and you both being arrested. I’m sorry but there really are no other options” The monkey was starting to lose his cool a little “It’s only for a weekend. I’m sure the two of you can at least play nice for that long.”

 

The briefing went on for a little longer, with Junkrat not really paying attention to what Winston was saying. He was too busy thinking about the upcoming weekend. For the past week since his revelation while fixing her clock his feelings towards Symm had been swarming in the back of his mind like angry bees, and whenever he thought of her he got a strange fuzzy feeling in his chest that he couldn't help. He’d even brought it up to Hog in hope of some advice, but the old Junker had just laughed at him. Of course it was just his fucking luck that now, when he was so confused, would be the time he’d be left alone with her and pretending to be a couple too.

 

He was just making his way out when she came over to him with a sheepish smile. “Hey, I just want to say sorry about how I may have come across-”

 

“It’s fine!” the lanky Junker cut her off quickly with a nervous laugh “I wouldn't particularly want to pretend to go out with me either. Ya’know being a Junker and all. Quite dirty...probably stink a little too...”

 

Symmetra shook her head with a light hearted laugh which made that annoying feeling in Junkrat’s chest return “No,no! It’s more about if Viskar got the wrong message and thought I was actually dating an Overwatch agent, never mind a wanted criminal. Unauthorised or ‘out of company’ relationships tend to be frowned upon…” The architect gave him a bright smile “As long as Winston is sure that we won't be recognised it shouldn't be a problem however. It wasn't anything personal to you.” She paused for a moment looking him up and down and noting the thin layer of dirt that seemed to stick to every inch of him  “Although you may want to clean up. A soot covered man does stick out like a sore thumb.”

 

He nodded enthusiastically “S-Sure!”. God he was acting like such a fucking idiot. He wanted to just slap himself out of it, get himself to just chill the fuck out. Why the hell was he suddenly acting like this? He didn't even know how he really felt about Symmetra, but her presence was doing a fine job of reducing his brain to soup regardless. Symm hadn't even done anything to provoke him for fucks sake!.

 

He suddenly realised she was still looking up at him with a slight look of puzzlement on her face, obviously expecting him to say something else.

 

“Well, I guess I need to go and pack my things. I'll see you later.” She gave him one last slightly weary smile before leaving him alone in the doorway.

 

“Um...See ya” He mumbled, heading towards his own room. Hog was going to enjoy taking the piss out of him for this.

 

* * *

 

 

Symmetra carefully folded the summer dress she had in her hands, making sure that the piece of clothing was not crumpled as she placed it in her suitcase. The case was almost fully packed with all the things she thought she’d need for the mission, minus a few items she would have to pick up in Paris.

 

She would have appreciated it if Winston had told her about this mission more than a day before they were set to leave. Having to pack and organize herself at such short notice made her quite stressed. She also didn't have many 'casual’ items of clothing, it wasn't like she was expecting to go on any sort of weekend break when she originally packed for her time at the watchpoint.

 

Luckily she could scrape together just enough casual attire to last her the trip and other things, such as her overnight toiletries, were always ready in case she needed to grab them for an emergency mission.

 

The architect looked down at the hastily written checklist that sat on the bed next to her, picking up a pen and crossing off the dress before beginning to fold up a towel. She’d be lying if she said she wasn't somewhat looking forward to the trip. Paris was such a beautiful city. Whenever she had been there in the past she had never had an opportunity to look around properly at the city’s amazing architecture.She also wasn't too disappointed by who she had to go with, even if she would have preferd to be paired with one of the girls. As much as she hated to admit it, she was slowly starting to warm up to the crazy Junker, even if he had been acting a little more oddly than normal recently. Though she wasn't too sure about pretending to be his girlfriend.

 

What if it was just unterly unconvincing? She couldn't really deny that he was moderately physically attractive, at least when he was clean, but he was also loud, boisterous and manic, pretty much everything she was against. He was the complete opposite of what she would usually look for in a partner and she had no idea if she could possibly fake a convincing romance with him. Although, to his credit, he did have some redeeming qualities.

 

She was learning he had good sense of justice with a fantastic technical brain. She couldn’t help but think back to all the creative schematics and ideas he kept in his workbook with a small sense of awe at his intelligence. Perhaps if it wasn’t for the circumstances of his upbringing he may have had the opportunity to explore his obvious academic ability further and put it to use in a less...chaotic...way. Maybe he could have even become part of something like Viskar or her sister companies. Then she would have different feelings towards the mad bomber?

 

Of course this thinking was all to help with her acticing and nothing more, she’d usually never even think about the lanky Junker in this way. She didn’t particularly like having to think about a coworker like this, prefering to keep simple friendships with colleagues at most, but she had to be sure of how she was going to approach the mission if they didn’t want to risk getting caught out and exposed. She just hoped that if Viskar caught wind of the mission they would understand and believe that she had no true interest in the mad criminal.

 

Symmetra turned and placed the towel in her suitcase before closing the lid and zipping it up, placing the case at the foot of her bed ready to leave first thing in the morning.

  


However she looked at it, it was going to be an interesting weekend.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have not had, or am currently going trough the treatment and emotional stress that comes with having a serious illness such as cancer. However my best friend, who is now a year in remission, has, with a cancer located in the top part of her lung, very similar to the type in the story. The things she has told me, mixed with the research I've done means i have a fairly in depth knowledge of the practical and emotional effects of this illness. Still, if anything in this story is incorrect please do let me know so i can correct it. I don't wan to be talking about an illness i haven't experienced over others who have battled it or are currently doing so. But over all i hope you enjoy this story and all its angst.


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